


honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch

by moonythejedi394, raynaki



Series: the same story; told different ways [12]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Play, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - No Hydra Takeover, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, Don't copy to another site, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling In Love, Found Family, Gender Issues, Gentle Sex, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knotting, Little Steve Rogers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misogyny, Modern Bucky Barnes, Nomad Steve Rogers, Omega Steve Rogers, Past Abuse, Past Incest, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past Rape/Non-con, Patriarchy, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Punishment, Recovery, Restraints, Rutting, Shrunkyclunks Big Bang 2019, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, daddy bucky barnes, no beard tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 105,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19725076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonythejedi394/pseuds/moonythejedi394, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynaki/pseuds/raynaki
Summary: Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA.Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI.Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further.Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.





	1. And so the story goes…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Somewhere in his brain as he started to fall asleep, Bucky noted that when he’d run into Captain America both times, he’d smelled like sweat and sugar, which wasn’t really what you’d expect from an Alpha in his prime. This thought lasted barely two seconds. Bucky was fine not wondering about non-fresh previously frozen All-American Beef in any form._
> 
> *
> 
> _Steve splashed his face with cold water. He straightened up and dried his face with the hand towel, then closed the mirror covering the cabinet and just looked at himself. “You look like shit, Rogers,” Steve muttered to his reflection._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _hello, hello, welcome to the Shrunkyclunks fic i've affectionately nicknamed "Yikes, Steve." the title comes from song lyrics, bc y'all know i'm not really original, specifically[bury a friend](https://genius.com/16396101) and [needy](https://genius.com/15837437), and it took me forever to actually put my brain towards coming up with a title so if it's shit, blame it on 11th hour work_
> 
> _please be mindful of the tags, y'all, the plot tackles gaslighting, sexual abuse, alcoholism, body dysmorphia, and eating disorders. there aren't any graphic scenes of sexual abuse, only discussion, but there are detailed descriptions of vomiting, self-starvation, and depression spirals. please take caution if you think you may be triggered by any of these things._
> 
> _the cover and artwork featured in this fic was put together by the wonderful raynaki, who is generally an amazing person. my mom-friend lexi beta'd this and she would like it known that steve needs a therapist. she is correct._

# 

#  _1: And so the story goes…_

The night was warm and the air was wet. A heavy fog rolled over the green hills and slipped like hands reaching into the cities and villages; long fingers searching for hems of skirts and trouser legs. It was an ill and foreboding night, not a night for joy or happiness or even hope.

An owl called somewhere in the nearby woods. A very small church stood out against the fog on the outskirts of Dublin; beside it, headstones and statues of angels rose up from the mist to remind mortals of their limited time on earth. The church was quiet, empty as churches should be at the height of the witching hour.

Well, no. Almost. It was almost empty. It was almost quiet.

_“Breathe, breathe, you’re doing wonderfully,”_ a church matron bade, in Irish, of a woman screaming in pain.

In a far back room, a young and unwed Omega was giving birth. The church matron and a midwife were at her side, but they were strangers to her. She was not a native of the parish but had walked – _walked,_ with her womb heavy and swollen – from a village she refused to name a distance she refused to specify. She wore no ring and carried no Bible with her, only the clothes on her back and a blanket to swaddle the child she was bearing.

Outside the church, the nearest neighbor heard her screams in the night. He crossed himself and kissed his rosary, begging the Lord to take the cries of the banshee away from his wife and children.

Dawn eventually rose. She gave birth to a boy. The church gave her a coat and turned her back onto the street. She walked away from there with her newborn son tucked close to her breast.

That church never saw her again. In just a few months, she boarded a boat for Ellis Island. Ireland never saw her again. Her son, on the other hand, would soon storm the beaches of Ireland and more. All in time.

*

His hands were shaking. So were his knees and calves. His whole body was shaking. It was late, the sun had set long ago, it was much too late for him to be out on his own, slight and obviously a target for anyone brave enough to break the ten commandments on the doorstep of the house of God, but he was already almost there and he was determined.

Steve Rogers walked with a slow step, betraying his nerves. He found the doors of the church unlocked and entered. He stopped in the aisle to kneel and cross himself, then headed for the confessional booths. The church was silent, all the ghosts and angels held their breath as a whore trespassed upon holy ground. Steve felt their eyes on him. On the collar he stole when he fled his master’s house, the clothes that weren’t his, either, that he had no right to keep.

“Good evening, my child,” Father Elliot greeted him softly.

“Good evening,” Steve echoed. 

There was fear in his heart. But surround it was a thick apathy. He was tired.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he recited, voice quiet. “My last confession was two years ago. Since then, I have committed mortal sins.”

“Tell me, my son. Know that God has sent his Son to die for your sins, be they great or be they small.”

Steve held his hands against his stomach, which ached with hunger.

“I’ve avoided confessing this for a long time,” he whispered. “So far, I’ve been afraid of what repenting of this would mean.”

“And what would it mean?”

Steve was tired.

“I am living in sin, Father,” he admitted. “I – I’m a prostitute. I was, but for a while, a – a man took me in and – and took care of me, but – but living with him wasn’t any better than – than –”

Father Elliot fell quiet. Steve had known that would happen.

“I was collared up until a few weeks ago,” Steve said. “He was involved in the mob, I woke up one morning and found a dead man in our bathroom. So I ran away.”

“How did you meet him?” Father Elliot asked him.

Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I ran away. Since then, haven’t been able to afford food,” Steve said. “I tried to get money by – by –” He cleared his throat. “But I’m sick.”

“To confess, you must be remorseful for your sins, my child,” Father Elliot told him softly. He sounded almost afraid.

“I’m remorseful,” Steve promised easily. “I’ve turned my back on it. It has been a week since I last whored myself. I don’t want to bother anymore. It’s killing me anyway.”

“My son, your words are worrying,” Father Elliot answered.

“I want absolution before I die,” Steve said, looking down at his shaking hands. “Can I – Can I still receive absolution if my life ends because of my own actions?”

“My son,” Father Elliot murmured, “to take one’s life is a mortal sin like no other.”

“I haven’t taken anything,” Steve said. “I won’t be jumping from any bridges. But – But I’m not going to stop my death from happening.”

“I do not understand, –”

“I’m starving, Father,” Steve reminded him. “I really am. And I’m ill and I – I don’t have anywhere to go; my home’s gone, I can’t – I can’t go back to Ronan, I'm afraid of what he'd do to me if I did.”

“Where are you staying?” Father Elliot asked immediately.

“Nowhere,” Steve said. “I think by morning – I think I’ll be done. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

“There are rooms here you could take,” Father Elliot said in a quick tone, “you needn’t suffer, Steven –”

“I know,” Steve answered, lifting his gaze; through the slats in the door to the confessional booth, he could see the crucifix. “ _‘Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial,’_ ” he quoted under his breath.

“Steven,” Father Elliot said, his voice a warning, “even if you allow your death to come passively, the Lord will know that you wished for it to come.”

Steve looked back at his hands. He drew in a sharp breath.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked. “If I take the money to keep myself alive, I’m living in sin. If I repent of that sin and reject it, I die in sin. There’s nothing I can do, Father.”

“The Lord will provide,” Father Elliot told him. “As we have been told, the Lord is with us always and his will will carry us on.”

“What if this is his will?” Steve asked.

“The Lord would not wish for you to starve and freeze to death, my son,” Father Elliot told him.

Steve took in another heavy breath. “I’m still dying, Father,” he murmured.

“You have repented of your sins,” Father Elliot reminded him. “You reject and regret them. You have suffered enough consequence for penance.”

“But –” Steve started.

“I absolve you,” Father Elliot cut him off. “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, your sins are forgiven.”

Steve bit his lip. 

He heard the confessional booth open on Father Elliot’s side, then the door in front of him opened. Steve looked up, sucking in a breath, and Father Elliot held out his hand.

“Come,” he said kindly. “The Lord provides.”

Steve’s eyes were wide. He took Father Elliot’s hand.

*

The radio went dead on him, but he’d said his goodbyes so it no longer mattered. The water was drawing ever nearer and Steve shut his eyes just as the plane broke through the ice.

The glass burst, water rushed in, and he began to pray.

“Heavenly Father above, into your hands, I commend my immortal soul.”

Ice and freezing cold water swirled around his ankles.

“Holy Mary, pray for me. Saint Joseph, pray for me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, assist me in my last agony.”

The cold rose to his knees, then.

Steve let go of the controls and backed up. He swung his shield off his back and lowered himself to the ground, sinking into the rapidly rising water and lying down. He settled his shield over his chest.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I pray for a soldier’s Last Rites.”

The cold swept over him at last, but he embraced the arms of death like an old friend. Steve had no tears for his own death, for it was by far late in coming. It was more like a relief. The water covered his face. He closed his eyes. It was a relief. Though his lungs begged for air and his heart beat wildly, he was relieved to drown.

He prayed that he would open his eyes to his mother’s smiling face.

“... and the crowd knows, with one swing o’ his bat, this fella’s capable of making it a brand new game again…”

Sarah Rogers did not welcome him into heaven. Steve opened his eyes in a new century.

*

The shrill beep of his alarm jerked Bucky from his altogether unsatisfying sleep. He sat up quickly, slapping wildly around until his hand collided with the snooze button, and then fell back against his pillows with a groan. He lay there for a moment, until he heard the coffee maker in his kitchen beep and the scent of it brewing drifted into his bedroom.

Bucky pushed back up. He slipped out of bed and stumbled, clad only in his boxers, out of his bedroom and into his kitchen. He grabbed his TV remote on the way and switched it on; already, it was on the local news channel.

_“– after the Invasion of New York, the public is calling for more transparency from government agencies such as SHIELD, the FBI, and the CIA…”_

Bucky ignored the news; he knew more than he wanted to about the aliens, seeing as he’d been one of the first responders after the National Guard was called in. He just poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter to drink it black. He grimaced a little and checked the filter, then groaned again. He hadn’t put in enough grounds and now the coffee was weak.

Fuck it, he was bound to stop at Starbucks on his way to work anyway.

Bucky grabbed a protein shake from the fridge before wandering into the living room. He plopped onto the sofa, turned up the volume on the TV, and cracked open the shake. As usual, he grimaced at its taste, too.

_“– SHIELD has released limited information on the special forces team that lead point against the Chitauri Invasion,”_ the news anchor said, _“this team is a new addition to their ranks; the Avengers.”_

Bucky took another swig of his shake, then let out an involuntary burp and grimaced a third time. 

“Gross,” he muttered to himself.

_“The Avengers are lead by a familiar face; Captain America. The famous super-soldier Alpha was reported to have died in the line of duty near the end of World War 2, but as our sources tell us, Cap was actually cryogenically frozen in the Arctic Sea near Greenland. SHIELD discovered his body last year and successfully thawed him.”_

“Freaky,” Bucky muttered, then grabbed the remote and switched to the Weather Channel.

_“– cloudy skies with a high of 93 and a low of 79. Winds should be picking up sometime this morning and we should be getting rain by ten this morning. Right now it’s 68 degrees and foggy, so keep your headlights on.”_

Bucky drained his protein shake. He checked the time, then pushed off the couch and headed to take a shower. It was only 3 AM, he had plenty of time before he had to catch the Metro to the ER.

Bucky showered and dressed in the next half hour, finally leaving the house in a pair of joggers and a tank top under a sweatshirt and his leather jacket. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, then shoved his feet into his old combat boots before heading out without bothering to lace them. He yawned on his way down to the first level of the split brownstone he called home and pulled earbuds from his jacket pocket.

The apartment on the first floor had lights on. Bucky paused in the short hallway that lead to the stairs going up to his apartment and just looked at the door for #1. Someone had moved in yesterday while he’d been at work and he still hadn’t had time to introduce himself. Clint, his landlord, said it was a friend of his who'd just moved back to New York after a long time away, that plus the strategic neatness made Bucky's Army-dar ping.

But there were enough lights on inside that a bar of gold spilled out from under the door into the hallway. Bucky checked the time on his phone and wondered if his new neighbor had a weird AF schedule like he did and what their excuse was.

Bucky only contemplated it for a minute. He shrugged to himself and headed out, locking the front door on his way out.

The air was brisk but promised heat later in the day. Bucky plugged in his headphones and started up his early morning playlist as he started his walk to the subway.

As he turned the corner at the end of the block, Bucky was nearly hit by a jogger taking advantage of the cool air. He jumped out of the way in time, but the jogger skidded to a stop and grabbed the stop sign to hold himself up.

“Geez, watch where you’re goin’!” Bucky snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” the jogger – a massive brickhouse blonde dude with shoulders way too broad for his tiny hips and waist. “There’s never anybody out at this time!”

“Yeah, good reason,” Bucky muttered, starting off again.

“Sorry!” the jogger called after him again.

Bucky just waved a hand. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept going.

On the subway, Bucky stared into the distance while his mind started to turn its gears slowly. Halfway to the hospital, something occurred to him. He took out his phone and Googled Captain America.

He ignored the news stories and looked for a decent photo. Bucky squinted at it for a while.

“Huh,” he muttered.

He’d almost been turned into a pancake by Captain America.

Bucky gave this train of thought exactly two more seconds of life before resuming his morning stare into space until he reached his stop and got off. Then he stared into space while walking until he got to Starbucks and ducked inside to grab a coffee and a bagel.

“Hey, dude,” Skye greeted him. “Usual?”

“Usual,” Bucky yawned.

America put down a cup in front of Bucky and saluted. Bucky grinned and picked it up to sip; perfect six-shot Americano with light Toffee Nut syrup and cream, like he always got.

“Remind me to propose to you one day,” Bucky told America.

“Nah, I don’t do Doms or Alphas,” America said calmly. “You got an Omega sibling in need of a Dom, hit me up.”

“I got a lil’ sister,” Bucky answered as he dug out change to pay for his breakfast. “She’s got two kids and a slobbery dog.”

“I’m in love already,” America quipped.

Bucky laughed and forked over the money. Skye put it away and handed him his change, which Bucky just dumped into the tip jar.

“Have a good morning,” he wished them as he grabbed his coffee and bagel.

“You, too!” Skye called.

Bucky continued to work. He drank his coffee and ate his bagel while walking. He scanned himself in, headed to the lockers, changed into his scrubs and tied his hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. He tucked his dog tags, which he wore only out of habit, under his shirt then headed out to start his shift.

Fourteen hours later, Bucky let himself back into his building, yawning the same as he’d left it. He aimed straight for the stairs and, having shut his eyes to yawn, didn’t see the massive brickhouse blonde who’d just stepped into the hallway.

“Shit!” Blonde Brickhouse gasped as he bounced back.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, grabbing his suddenly aching nose.

“Who ain’t watchin’ where they’re goin’ now?” 

Bucky squinted through the tears stinging at his eyes. Yep. That was Captain America standing in his hallway, rubbing at his sore shoulder and glaring at Bucky. Great.

“You’re the one who moved in?” Bucky asked gruffly.

“Yeah,” Captain America said. “Do you normally walk right into people like that?”

“No, usually I run them over,” Bucky grumbled. “‘Scuse.”

He headed for the stairs. He was fuck-all tired and didn’t really care that Captain America was now his downstairs neighbor. Bucky walked out of his clothes up in his apartment and into the shower, then from the shower into his bed without even bothering to put on boxers. He flopped down and squirmed around, grabbed a pillow and hugged it to sleep with; instinctively, he rubbed his face in it to transfer his scent onto it.

Somewhere in his brain as he started to fall asleep, Bucky noted that when he’d run into Captain America both times, he’d smelled like sweat and sugar, which wasn’t really what you’d expect from an Alpha in his prime. This thought lasted barely two seconds. Bucky was fine not wondering about non-fresh previously frozen All-American Beef in any form.

*

Downstairs, Steve lingered briefly in the hallway. He stared at the floor with a frown on his face as he rubbed at his shoulder. 

Maybe it was just the fact that he was tired, but his upstairs neighbor’s scent was messing with his head. Steve had actually just been upstairs, thinking that he could introduce himself, but hadn’t realized that his neighbor wasn’t home yet. Instead, he’d just stood in front of the door and breathed in the strong scent of Alpha on the doorway. That same scent was prominent in the hallway, too.

And now it was on him. Steve rubbed at his shoulder, which he’d accidentally driven right into his Alpha neighbor’s face.

Steve ducked back into his own apartment and went straight for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. His hands shook as he dug out a fresh packet of generic, over-the-counter heat/scent suppressants. He’d just taken a dose a few hours ago, but his scent gland was suddenly itching and Steve was afraid of what that meant. He emptied the packet, all eight pills, and swallowed them with a mouthful of water from the tap. 

He splashed his face with cold water. Steve straightened up and dried his face with the hand towel, then closed the mirror covering the cabinet and just looked at himself.

“You look like shit, Rogers,” Steve muttered to his reflection.

There were bags under his eyes. His face was thin. His nose was distinctly crooked against his prominent cheekbones and square jaw. He was pale, even his lips lacked color. 

No wonder his Alpha neighbor pushed past him without even introducing himself. Steve shoved away from the vanity and pushed out of the bathroom. No wonder Alphas and Doms ignored him; forget his reputation, he looked like shit. 

His stomach grumbled, aching with hunger. Steve ignored it, long since used to it. He re-tied his shoelaces and grabbed a zip-up hoodie, then his keys and he left. He meant to run, but ended up only walking. It was long since dark by the time he ended up back home; nearly 2 in the morning.

Steve entered the brownstone just as his upstairs neighbor stepped off the stairs. Steve froze like a deer in headlights, startled by the Alpha’s presence. His neighbor just gave him a weird look.

“Do you even sleep?” he asked.

Steve immediately got defensive. “Says the guy leaving at 2 AM,” he returned sharply.

“I’m an ER nurse,” his neighbor replied calmly. “What’s your excuse?”

Steve was suddenly tongue-tied with the urge to give a reasonable answer. His Alpha neighbor just pushed past him and left. Steve ended up just standing there; his neighbor had actually brushed by his shoulder, the same one he’d run into the afternoon before. Steve touched the spot, staring at the wall. 

His scent gland began to burn and itch. Steve almost bolted to the bathroom; he swallowed another 8 pills. The back of the box said to take no more than 2 every twelve hours. Steve had been ignoring that warning for months.

His phone beeped as SHIELD notified him of a mission. Steve grabbed his gear, swung his shield onto his back, turned right around and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _steve does need a therapist. hang in there._


	2. Superman got nothing on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i'm glad y'all are hyped for this, bc i kinda poured my heart into this new edition of depressed, long-bean steve. depressed-skinny-bean!steve. and chunky-peanut-butter!bucky. i'm v fond of these two._

#  _2: Superman got nothing on me_

Bucky was distantly aware that his work schedule was more than a little insane.

_“Your work schedule is insane,”_ Becca told him over the phone. _“How are you even functioning?”_

“I eat a lot of pasta,” Bucky said calmly. 

He was, in fact, cooking ravioli while on the phone with her. His cell was pinned between his shoulder and his ear, as he was stirring a small pot of store-bought tomato vodka sauce while the similarly store-bought spinach and 3 cheese ravioli boiled in another pot. He hadn’t eaten more than a chicken salad sandwich from the hospital cafeteria since noon and, as it was nearing 7 in the evening, he was starving.

_“Okay, but you’re working, like, seventy hours a week.”_

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “So?”

_“How do you even manage to work out, you freak?”_

“Ha,” Bucky laughed. “I torture myself for at least an hour on my days off.”

_“You don’t have days off!”_

“Not true,” Bucky said, switching off the fire under the tomato sauce. “I never work Tuesdays.”

_“I don’t believe you,”_ Becca told him. _“You have to be some kind of alien.”_

“Aliens don’t exist,” Bucky quipped.

_“You literally fought aliens a few weeks ago!”_ Becca screeched into the phone.

Bucky winced and yanked the phone away. He swapped ears and tucked it against his other shoulder.

“Do you want me to babysit Friday or not?” he asked.

_“Yes,”_ Becca sighed. _“Ricky’s not paying child support again and I gotta take him back to court; they hate court days, yannow.”_

“Trust me, I hate them, too,” Bucky promised. “Drop ‘em off after school, I’ll be home by 2 AM.”

_“Are you sure you’re okay doing this?”_ Becca asked. _“I could ask a friend to watch them –?”_

“Nah, I got it,” Bucky said. “I got Saturday off and my shift’s not until the afternoon on Sunday, so I’ll have a whole 48 hours.”

_“You work way too much,”_ Becca told him. _“I love you and I’m glad you can take them; I should be able to pick them up by 8, but if Ricky doesn’t show up on time, we might run late.”_

“Hey, it’s fine,” Bucky promised. “Don’t worry about it, Becks, I got this.”

_“Okay, if you’re sure –”_

“I’m sure,” Bucky insisted. “Oh, but hey –”

He turned the fire off under the ravioli as well and leaned back against the counter, grabbing his phone to hold it against his ear with a hand.

“I’ve got a downstairs neighbor now,” Bucky told his sister. “And he’s, uh, he’s kinda recognizable?”

_“Okay?”_ Becca said. _“Why is this relevant?”_

“It’s Captain America,” Bucky said.

Becca didn’t immediately answer. Bucky grabbed a hot pad and picked the ravioli pot up to dump it into a strainer in the sink.

_“Captain America lives under you,”_ Becca said.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered.

_“Captain America is your neighbor.”_

“Yep.”

_“What the fuck, Bucket?”_

“Yep,” Bucky just agreed.

He dumped the ravioli into a bowl and poured the tomato vodka sauce over the pasta; he left the pots in the sink to wash later, while Becca started to rant into his ear about the ridiculousness of his life.

“I’m gonna go eat supper,” Bucky cut her off after a few minutes. “I’ll see you on Friday, give the kids a hug and a kiss for me.”

_“Yeah, fine, love you, Bugsy.”_

“Love you, too, Becca.”

Bucky hung up. He grabbed a fork and the bowl and headed to the living room, where he grabbed the remote and switched on an episode of CSI: New York. He settled back and put his feet up on an ottoman; a vividly orange thing he bought at Walmart 84 years ago and hadn't yet had the heart to replace despite how much of an eyesore it was. He stabbed a ravioli and raised it to his lips.

Then the buzzer rang. Bucky dropped his fork into his bowl and turned to glare at the buzzer.

“I dare you to do that again,” he snapped.

The buzzer did it again. Bucky let out a huff and put his bowl down on the end table to get up, kicking the ottoman aside. Pausing the TV, he moved to the door and answered the intercom.

“I didn’t order any food.”

_“Uh, I’m not a delivery person?”_

Bucky squinted at the intercom. “Who is this?”

_“It’s – It’s your neighbor? Downstairs? I forgot my keys. Could you let me in?”_

Bucky scowled. On the one hand, he was a little relieved; he hadn’t seen Cap in a few days. He’d been worried there would be aliens raining down on New York again. On the other, his ravioli was getting cold. Bucky screwed up his nose and drew in his eyebrows and pouted. He thunked his forehead against the wall, then pressed the intercom again.

“Gimme a second,” he said.

He let go and yanked open his front door. He didn’t bother putting on shoes or anything more than the loose tank top and sweats he’d changed into after getting home from work, though he was positive his nips were visible through the faded fabric. He really didn’t care.

Bucky regretted not putting on shoes, though, because the tile going downstairs and the metal steps were freezing. He headed straight for the main door and unlocked and opened it; Captain America stood on the stoop, huge shoulders shrunk in and hiding under a hood as rain poured down in a frankly alarming deluge.

“I got a spare key to your place,” Bucky said without a greeting. “You forget that one, too?”

“Yeah,” Captain America muttered, pushing inside.

He was thoroughly soaked, Bucky noted. His jeans were definitely a shade or two darker and his hair stuck to his forehead, he was actively dripping onto the tile. Bucky backed up from the rapidly forming puddle, not wanting to get his feet wet.

“Jesus, you go for a swim out there?” Bucky asked.

Captain America avoided his gaze and just looked at his apartment door. “You said you had a key?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “It’s in the supply closet over here.”

He passed Captain America – Cap? Captain? – to step past the stairs and open the closet/basement entrance tucked under them. There were a few keys hanging on the back of the door and Bucky grabbed the one for the first-floor apartment. He headed back and unlocked Cap’s door.

“Thanks,” Cap said.

“No problem,” Bucky answered, tossing the key to him. “Next time you forget your key, there’s a fake brick on the left side of the steps; third in from the house and eight up from the ground.”

“Clint could’a mentioned that,” Cap grumbled.

“I put it there,” Bucky said. “Told ‘im, but I’m pretty sure he forgot.”

“Thanks,” Cap repeated, stepping into his doorway.

Bucky just nodded and turned back for the stairs. On the landing halfway up, he caught Cap still standing in his doorway and shedding the East River onto the tile. Just staring at the key in his hand.

“Yikes,” Bucky muttered to himself as he headed back to his place and his abandoned bowl of ravioli.

But heading upstairs, Bucky couldn’t shake the picture of Captain America staring listlessly into nothing from his mind. An imaginary angel that sounded a lot like Sam from the VA dropped onto his shoulder and just started glaring at him. Bucky still had more ravioli and sauce in his fridge. 

_“That super soldier’s still just a kid,”_ Shoulder-Angel/Sam pointed out.

“Fuck it,” Bucky sighed.

He grabbed the extra ravioli.

*

It occurred to Steve that he still technically didn’t know his neighbor’s name. As the Alpha left for his own place, Steve considered the consequences of asking Clint; it would mean admitting that he hadn’t really introduced himself to his neighbor, but would rule out some of the awkwardness of just referring to him as The Alpha Upstairs.

His clothes were soaked through. Steve had to deal with that first; he was freezing and tired and hungry and didn’t want to touch the varied stock of protein shakes and protein bars in his kitchen. He was mostly just freezing.

He’d tracked water everywhere. Steve headed inside, tossing aside his gym bag with his gear, and went straight for the laundry machines tucked in a closet by the kitchen. He stripped out of his clothes and dropped them straight into the washer, then didn’t bother doing anything else with them as he turned on his heel and went to grab his bathrobe. He tied it tightly around himself and grabbed some towels to mop up the hallway.

Steve opened his door and found The Alpha from Upstairs heading back down the stairs, looking determined. Steve froze for a second, startled mostly by the Alpha’s sharp and powerful scent and a little by the fierceness in his eyes.

“I cooked too much pasta,” The Alpha Upstairs said in a surprisingly firm voice. “Want some?”

Steve blinked. The Alpha Upstairs lingered on the stairs and just looked at him, a second later crossing his arms over his chest. Vaguely, it occurred to Steve that his neighbor, who he still didn’t have a name for, had really thick biceps.

“It’s ravioli,” The Alpha Upstairs added.

“Uh,” Steve said, uncomfortably pulling his bathrobe tighter around himself. “That’s okay,” he tried to say, “I have, um, protein bars.”

The Alpha Upstairs raised an eyebrow. Steve realized how stupid he sounded and tried not to wince.

“Come eat some ravioli, pal,” The Alpha Upstairs said. “You can have a coffee, too, if caffeine won’t mess up your bedtime.”

Steve thought that might’ve been a joke. He blinked at it, but The Alpha from Upstairs didn’t say anything else and just went back up. Steve blinked some more.

The offer hadn’t been an order, Steve knew. His heartbeat, however, was wildly insisting that it had been and he’d better obey. He desperately wanted to obey. 

Steve went back inside his apartment and locked the door behind him. He skipped the protein bar and just headed for the bathroom, habitually swallowing more heat suppressants. It was a shame there wasn’t a pill to suppress his Submissive side. He was shaky, his body insisting that he was disobeying the order of a Dom. His neighbor wasn’t even his Dom; Steve didn’t even know his name. Didn’t make him feel any better about ignoring him.

*

After an hour went by and Cap didn’t show up, Bucky dumped the extra serving of ravioli into a container to take to work later. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or sorry that Cap had ignored his offer. Then again, he hadn’t made it sound very inviting, his Shoulder Angel pointed out.

“Not my fault if he don’t like ravioli,” Bucky muttered to himself as he switched off the TV.

He took a shower and considered shaving. He had more than a little scruff built up, but no one ever said he had to be clean shaven and he was starting to develop a bit of a beard. Standing in front of the mirror, Bucky evaluated his prospects. He grabbed his phone, took a pic of the mirror while carefully squatting to hide his dick under the counter, then sent it to Sam.

_Beard or no beard?_ he asked.

Sam started typing right away. Bucky started brushing his teeth. Halfway through scrubbing his molars, his phone pinged and he picked it back up to check it.

_Beard would go with that whole bear look you’ve got going on_

Bucky paused in brushing to text back, absently chewing on his toothbrush as he did.

_Bear????_

_Yannow, big and hairy_

_I’m not big and hairy!_

_Bruh._

Bucky looked back at himself critically in the mirror. Okay, he could accept hairy; he wasn’t Magnum PI, but he had plenty of chest hair and a thick happy trail down his stomach. And, okay, looking at himself, he was definitely big, too. Ten years ago, he’d had a chiseled 8-pack, but now? Sure, he was muscle on top and in the legs, but given his exercise routine didn't include any core exercises and he did not limit his carb intake, he was closer to a 2-pack these days.

Bucky pinched his stomach, scowling. He didn’t have a Sub to impress, anyway, he was comfortably monogamous with his right hand and considering his parents had both died already, there was no one pushing him to produce grandbabies. He was in his fucking 30s, he was allowed to abandon the idea of chiseled abs and welcome being chunky peanut butter.

He texted Sam back.

_Fair._

Bucky resumed brushing his teeth, spat and rinsed before Sam replied.

_Beard goes with the bear look_

Bucky decided not to shave. He poked his stomach one more time, though, squinting at himself. Maybe Smucker's chunky peanut butter, the kind that you had to stir because the oils would separate if left out in room temperature too long.

But whatever, he was 37 and he was more in shape than most Alphas his age. Bucky headed into his bedroom casually naked and comfortable to step into a pair of boxers. Boxers stepped into, he fell into bed. Bucky plugged his phone in, made sure his alarm clock was set to wake him up in time for him to get a run in before he left for work, and popped a couple of sleeping pills.

Then he squirmed around in bed for a few minutes before eventually hugging a pillow and starting to snore. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

*

Steve ended up just watching the rain fall from his living room window. As the evening ticked on, he regretted not accepting his upstairs neighbor’s offer of ravioli, not only because he felt sure it made him disobedient, but because he still didn’t have anything more than protein bars and shakes in his kitchen. Even though he ate five bars and drank a whole shake, he still felt hungry. He’d checked the nutrition information on the back of the protein bars, though, and realized that five bars should’ve been enough for three meals and abandoned the idea of eating any more. 

He watched the rain. He wanted to go out for a run. He wanted to sleep. He was wrapped up in the blanket from his bed, thick socks and pajamas on underneath his bathrobe, and he was still freezing. He didn’t know how to fix the thermostat and couldn’t bring himself to ask Clint, to admit to another thing he didn’t know about the future. Steve trembled a little under all his layers, watching the rain fall. He let his forehead rest against the window and the chill eased the headache he hadn’t even realized he had. 

Steve managed to doze. It was the best he could hope for these days. When he woke up, it was dark out and the rain had stopped.

He got dressed to run. He didn’t want to sit still anymore. He couldn’t. He had to get his mind off the fact that he’d disobeyed a Dom that he didn’t even know the name of.

*

Bucky rolled out of bed at 5 AM. He groaned and considered the possibility of skipping his work-out, but it was Thursday and he always went for a run on Thursdays; routine mattered to him, it kept him from spiraling into a mess of oily chunky peanut butter and confusion. 

Plus, he had a 16-hour shift ahead of him. He would regret skipping his run halfway through.

Bucky dressed in a pair of joggers and a light hoodie, grabbed his phone and headphones, actually laced up his sneakers and picked up his keys on his way out. 

Captain America exited his apartment just as Bucky stepped off the stairs. Cap looked up and met Bucky’s eye and his expression was suddenly worried.

“Uh, hi,” Cap said. “Um, about the – the pasta or whatever –”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said; Cap was wearing running clothes just like him, but his jacket hung off his shoulders. Bucky gave him a look as he passed. “You goin’ out?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cap said.

“Man of many words, ain’t’cha?” Bucky remarked. “Wanna join me?”

Cap hesitated by his door. Bucky opened the front door and just shrugged.

“Up to you,” he said. “But I know all the best routes.”

Cap bit his lip. Bucky was struck by sudden pity; he recognized that look. Had seen it in the mirror plenty of times.

“Sure,” Cap muttered finally. “I guess a light jog wouldn’t hurt.”

“ _Light jog?_ ” Bucky repeated, startled by the jab when Cap was still so skittish; Bucky hadn’t seen a dude more nervous than Captain America, which was fair, considering. “What,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “you think I can’t run?”

Cap forced a smile. “No offense, but nobody can run when you’re a super-soldier.”

“Wow,” Bucky said, nodding. He broke into a grin and held the door open. “Alright, pal, let’s see what you got, then.”

Cap’s smile wasn’t long-lasting. He passed Bucky and took the steps down at a light pace.

“By the way,” Bucky added, shutting the door behind them and locking it, “the name’s Barnes, Bucky Barnes.”

“Bucky?” Cap repeated, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What kinda name’s Bucky?”

“Short for Buchanan,” Bucky defended himself. “Besides, Buck sounds like a fuck boy name.”

“A fuck boy?” Cap repeated.

“Asshole who thinks he’s god’s gift to women and is entitled to all the pussy he wants,” Bucky explained, for the benefit of the old man, considering Cap was really somewhere in his 90s.

Cap blinked at Bucky’s language, but didn’t say anything. Bucky chose to ignore it.

“I’m Steve,” Cap said then. “Rogers, Steve Rogers.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky answered. “I passed high school American History.”

Cap glanced away and nodded. Bucky winced internally and tried to recover the moment by lightly punching Cap’s shoulder.

“Missed the part about you bein’ a lil’ shit, though,” he joked. “So, we gonna run or not?”

“Yeah, right,” Cap said.

Bucky started at a light jog. Cap started a little faster, but glanced over his shoulder and slowed down to keep in pace with Bucky.

“I thought we were running?” he asked.

“We gotta warm up!” Bucky said, exasperated. “Don’t tell me you start out sprinting every day?”

Cap glanced away. “Nah,” he said, though. “I just don’t normally go this slow.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Alright, kid,” he said. “Gimme a break, I’m not as spry as you are.”

Cap suddenly laughed. “Nobody’s called me a kid in a long time.”

Bucky cast him a glance, frowning. “You’re, what, 25?”

“26,” Cap said.

“That’s barely past college-age,” Bucky told him. “You’re eleven years younger than me. You’re a kid.”

Cap shrugged. “Most people count all the years I spent in the ice,” he said.

“That’s stupid,” Bucky declared.

“Yeah,” Cap said.

Bucky cast another glance at Cap. He worked his jaw and looked back at the road ahead of him. He felt almost like asking if he should call him Steve and not Cap, but at the same time, wondered if that was stupid.

Then Cap tripped over an uneven crack in the sidewalk and pinwheeled his arms to correct his balance. Bucky laughed and figured anybody who could flail like that was definitely too human to be referred to only by their rank.

“Shut it, jerk,” Steve snapped in Bucky’s direction.

“That just made my whole day,” Bucky replied. “That memory’s gonna carry me all through my shift; that was a blessing, thank you.”

Steve gave him a hard shove in the shoulder. Bucky kept laughing and staggered a little but didn’t trip over anything. 

He liked this kid Alpha.

“You run every morning around this time?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged. “Something like that.”

“I normally only run on Thursdays and Mondays,” Bucky said, “but I’ll try to join you ‘fore work if I can.”

Steve sent him a glance. Bucky thought he looked a little confused. He didn’t say anything about it.

“It’s definitely nicer runnin’ with a pal,” he continued.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Are we friends now?”

Bucky shrugged. “Suppose so. Unless you’d rather not be?”

“No, I wanna be friends,” Steve said, almost too quickly.

Bucky was trying not to pity him too much. It was a tough job.

“Let’s not get too into our feelings,” Bucky told Steve, shooting him a wink. “We ain’t Omegas, yannow?”

“Right,” Steve said, sobering.

Bucky cast him a glance, frowning, then bit his lip and looked away. He’d been joking, but wasn’t sure Steve got the humor in it. He wasn’t going to point it out though.

Bucky started to turn right. Steve had to backtrack to join him again; he was quiet now. Bucky didn’t have much to say, either. So they didn’t say anything.

“I gotta head in,” Bucky said some thirty minutes later as they neared their building again. “Gotta shower ‘fore I head to work.”

“Sure,” Steve answered, slowing. “It was – It was nice jogging with you.”

“Fine, I jog,” Bucky grumbled. “You go do your real run now, Captain America, sir.”

Steve looked away and nodded. Bucky, again, had been trying to be funny, but he guessed from his posture that Steve didn’t really like being called Sir by just anyone. Whatever. Bucky headed up the steps and unlocked the front door, then paused and turned back.

“I’m gonna be babysitting my sister’s kids tomorrow,” he said, “but I’ll run with you on Saturday if you want company.”

“Sure,” Steve just repeated. 

“You got your keys?” Bucky asked quickly as Steve started off again.

Steve checked his jacket pockets, then nodded. Bucky gave him a thumbs up and just headed inside.

Mentally, Bucky pushed the Sam Angel off his shoulder. He’d done the good deed and reached out. Steve would have to bring it up if he really needed more than just a running buddy, Bucky wasn’t going to push.

He showered and changed into non-sweaty clothes to get to work. As he left the building, he paused to listen at Steve’s door.

Everything was quiet inside. Bucky wondered if his neighbor was still out running. He didn’t have time to dawdle if he wanted to get coffee on his way in, but he knocked.

He waited a minute or two, knocked a second time, but there was no answer. Bucky hesitated a minute longer, then pressed a palm flat to the door and leaned his ear against it. He heard nothing from inside. 

Bucky shook his head and headed out. He wasn’t a shrink, he didn’t do sage advice. If Steve needed a friend to lean on, he’d be there, but he couldn’t put it out there that maybe Steve needed to lean on someone to begin with. Bucky dealt with Omegas who entered unexpected heat and didn’t have anywhere else to go and the occasional trauma ward run. Adults with adult problems were Sam’s thing.

*

The sun had risen by the time Steve returned to his apartment. He didn’t want to call it home; it felt too foreign, just a place he slept and showered in between missions. He didn’t want to go back to it, either, but the streets were filling and people were starting to examine his profile. So he went back and let himself in.

His door smelled like the Alpha from upstairs. Bucky. Steve lingered by the door and, without even meaning to, leaned against it just to breathe in the faint trace. It was maybe an hour old and was light, like Bucky had just touched his palm or forehead to the door, like he’d been listening to the apartment inside.

Steve ripped himself away. Suddenly panting, he clapped a hand to his own throat and covered his scent gland, which was starting to burn under his skin. Then he hastened to unlock his door and his hands shook. He got inside, locked the door behind him, and ran for the bathroom. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d taken his suppressants was, he didn’t care, either. He swallowed 8 pills and forced himself to take a shower. He had the smell of the street on him and he hated it. He had the faint scent of an Alpha’s touch on him and he _hated_ it.

(At least, he should have hated it. On principle alone. Steve should have been disgusted to recognize the scent of an Alpha on his skin. He had tried to dwell in the faint trace of Bucky’s smell just on his door.)

Steve turned the hot water on until it scalded his skin. He scrubbed at his body until he felt raw. He sank to the floor of the shower and just huddled under the spray, shaking. 

The water started to lose its heat. Steve didn’t notice until abruptly a shock of cold water hit his body. The freezing temperature hit him hard and when he came back to himself, he was lying on the floor of the bathroom, the curtain ripped from the rod and the water still on. He was still shaking. His breath came hard. 

He was freezing.

Steve turned on his front and pushed up. Grabbed a towel and wrapped himself in it. Turned the water off and left the curtain as it was. He stood and leaned on the counter.

The mirror was fogged over but he knew he probably looked like shit. No wonder Bucky didn’t want to look at him. He probably looked a little insane.

There was a digital scale tucked under a free-standing cabinet opposite the vanity. Steve pulled it out with his toe, turned it on, and stepped onto it.

The display flashed for a second, then the scale beeped and it read out 213. Steve stepped off of it, kicked it back under the rack and pulled the towel tighter around his body, clenching his jaw. He’d lost 4 pounds since yesterday, but he doubted it did anything. He left the bathroom and found his phone. He opened Google, but didn’t actually have to type it all out; it was in his search history.

Steve tapped on it and Google loaded a Body Mass Index calculator. Steve put in the new number, 213, with his height.

27.3. Overweight.

Steve dropped the phone and left it where it was. He went into his bedroom, dressed again, and picked a hoodie that would obscure his face more. He grabbed sunglasses, too, just for good measure. He left his phone but made sure to grab his keys.

He went back outside and did his best to jog. His stomach was cramping with hunger and he felt dizzy. The air outside was warm and the dark fabric of his hoodie accumulated heat as the sun beat down on New York. He was still freezing. He turned back and headed for home in defeat.

His phone pinged. Steve barely glanced at it before picking up his bag and walking out the door again. At least SHIELD never ran out of things for him to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _depressed-skinny-bean!steve and chunky-peanut-butter!bucky. and to close, lexi on steve's BMI... "bab e. babie, honey,,,, it's muscle, not fat???? i don't think you have the ability to have fat on you with that sculpted adonis thing you got goin. can like, anyone notice that he isn't okay besides bucket. literally anyone. shield should be fucking trained in how to spot this stuff i know they're probably watching him????"_


	3. God only knows what you’ve been through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this is the last update for today, the next 3 chapters will be posted tomorrow_

#  _3: God only knows what you’ve been through_

Bucky worked in the Heat Ward at the ER. He had to pass psychological evaluations every 6 months and was required to report his relationship status to his boss any time it changed. Mostly, there were other Omegas or Betas in the Heat Ward, but he was one of the few Alphas that didn’t rut at the first sniff of heat-scent. He was in charge of the Heat Ward and he ran a tight ship. Nobody got in without permission, patients did not leave until they were cleared by the hospital, nobody touched a patient that wasn’t supposed to. The Heat Ward was completely quarantined from the rest of the hospital, no one unauthorized got in or out.

Bucky had been working there for the past four years. He was pretty used to the sort of bullshit Omegas said while high on heat.

“I won’t tell,” a delirious patient begged him for the millionth time. “Please, please, I can’t take it anymore!”

“You’re doing fine, kid,” Bucky promised the girl – Katie, her chart said. “I just need you to calm down, okay?”

“I’m thirsty,” Katie said. She squirmed in the bed, her legs twisting. “It _hurts,_ Alpha!”

“You’re fine, kid,” Bucky told her, unaffected. 

He checked her IV and adjusted the level of sedatives going into her, then picked up a cup of water and held it for her. Katie sipped on it, then turned away and shut her eyes, panting lightly. Bucky checked her pulse again, even though the monitor behind him probably had it displayed, and her heart rate had dropped to a more acceptable level.

“There ya go, kiddo,” he said softly, pushing back her hair with his gloved hand. “Sleep it off.”

Katie nodded absently. Bucky changed the absorbent pad under her and pulled her blanket up to her chin, then left her. They had six patients that day, which was more than most days; with 8 million people in New York, at least one Omega forgot a pill every day. Normally the Heat Ward averaged three patients at any one time. Bucky only had him, Claire, and the ER doctor on call on duty.

“She’s a handful,” Claire remarked as Bucky left Katie’s room. “Begging again?”

“Gave her a lil’ more Valium,” Bucky said, ducking into the nurses’ station. “She’s sleeping.”

“Poor girl,” Clair said.

“Poor girl,” Bucky agreed, sitting down. “You call in backup for next shift?”

Claire nodded, spinning her chair to wake her computer. “Got a couple girls from ICU dropping in; Alice should be here by eight.”

Bucky checked the time; it was half seven.

“When she gets here, you should take your half,” he said.

“You got here before I did,” Claire answered, spinning around to raise her eyebrows at him.

“And I get off before you do,” Bucky countered. “Plus, I’m the ranking nurse. You take your half first.”

Claire scowled. “This is the glass ceiling,” she said, “sexism and some shit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Like you don’t get paid more’n I do.”

Claire snorted and spun her chair back around. Bucky rolled over to his computer and logged the updates to Katie’s file, then got up and went to check on the next patient in his list.

Alice showed up five minutes early, like she always did. Bucky let her in, then gave Claire a hard look until she groaned and signed herself out. Bucky briefed Alice on the six patients they had; two of the Omegas were nearing the ends of their cycles, another one was putting up a fight about eating her meals. 

“Don’t feel bad if you have to twist her arm to get the calories down,” Bucky told her.

“We recommend a psych eval?” Alice asked.

“Yeah, I put in a call to the usual shrink,” Bucky said.

Bucky had a few more rounds to do before his shift was over. Claire twisted his arm when she came back to get him to take his lunch break. Bucky chugged a protein shake and ate the ravioli he’d tried to feed to Captain America and headed back.

“That was not thirty minutes,” Claire called when he signed back into the ward.

Bucky flipped her off.

Bucky was relieved at midnight by another head nurse. He changed in the locker rooms and scrubbed himself down with deodorizing wipes to get the heat-scent off him. He punched out, shrugged on his jacket, plugged in his headphones and headed out.

The subway was deserted as much as it could be in New York. It was still a quiet ride home. Bucky walked home tired and stopped at McDonald’s to satisfy a craving for a cheap burger.

Greasy takeout in hand, Bucky unlocked the front door of his building. He opened it and found Steve on his way out, the same gym bag he’d had in hand the night before slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Bucky said, nodding to him. “Where you goin’?”

“For a run,” Steve answered, avoiding eye contact.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “At half one in the morning?” he questioned. “With a massive duffle?”

Steve glanced up, pausing. He opened his mouth, then his nostrils flared and he shut his mouth again. His expression hardened.

“What do you care?” he snapped. “What are you, my Dom?”

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Bucky countered, suddenly defensive; he stepped past Steve without showing his back, wary of the young Alpha now.

“Maybe I’m tired’a you gettin’ in my business,” Steve retorted, harshly yanking open the door. “We ain’t Omegas, Barnes, right?”

Steve slammed the front door behind him. Bucky blinked rapidly, eyebrows screwed up.

“The fuck was that?” he muttered to himself.

He shook himself and turned to head up the stairs. He let himself into his apartment, still confused as hell.

“Fuck was that?” Bucky questioned under his breath. “The fuck?”

He dropped onto his couch to eat his burger. Frowning as he tried to figure out what just happened. He brushed his teeth, trying to understand what he’d done to piss Steve off. Collapsed into bed and switched off his alarm instead of changing it, frowning about it. He was going to give himself wrinkles trying to understand what just happened.

The buzzer blaring woke Bucky the next day. He pushed out of bed, bleary, then remembered Becca was dropping her kids off and grabbed his bathrobe instead of going to greet his sister and nephews in his boxers.

Bucky opened the front door and blinked at the sunlight. Becca immediately wrinkled her nose.

“Ew, you stink like heat,” she said. “Didn’t you shower after work?”

“Nah,” Bucky muttered, stepping back to let her and the boys in. “Will later.”

“Shower now,” Becca told him. “Boys, you’ll behave while Uncle Bugsy showers, right?”

“Yeah!” Benny said excitedly, bouncing up and down on his toes. “Can we play Mario, Uncle Bugsy?”

Jay was less excited. He walked past Bucky and just headed up the stairs.

“Do you have coffee?” he called halfway up.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Becca. She grimaced.

“He has adolescence,” Benny piped up.

“And it’s contagious, so leave him alone,” Becca told him. “Thanks for doing this, Buck.”

“Yeah, no problemo,” Bucky answered with a wave of his hand. “I am going to let them play video games all day.”

“Only reason they love you,” Becca hissed, winking.

Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Becca tweaked his ear with a smile and stepped back off the stoop.

“Mario?” Benny asked.

Bucky scooped his nephew up and tucked him onto his waist. “After breakfast,” he said.

“It’s almost dinnertime!” Benny protested.

“Bugsy, you don’t have any coffee!” Jay yelled from upstairs.

“Nah, and I ain’t givin’ you none!” Bucky yelled back.

Then Steve’s door yanked open. Bucky paused as Steve stuck his head out, blinking like he’d just woken up. He wondered when Steve had even gotten back; he’d thought he’d be gone for days again.

“What’re you doing?” he asked in a scratchy voice.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, “I’m babysitting my sister’s kids.”

Steve blinked some more. Then he just ducked back into his apartment and shut the door. Bucky shook his head and started up the stairs.

“Who was that?” Benny asked.

“New neighbor,” Bucky said. “Mr. Steve.”

“Hi, Mr. Steve!” Benny yelled over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey, leave ‘im alone,” Bucky said quickly, “no yelling.”

Benny pouted. Bucky sighed and shut the door to his apartment behind him. He found Jay looking through his fridge with his backpack still on.

“You don’t have pepperoni,” Jay said.

“Nope,” Bucky answered, dropping Benny onto his feet, “nothin’ in that fridge is made from by-products.”

Jay leaned out of the fridge, frowning. “Is that like GMOs?”

“Sure,” Bucky said easily. “Youse hungry? I’m makin’ eggs.”

“I want cheese in mine!” Benny said.

“I don’t like eggs,” Jay complained.

“Then don’ eat ‘em,” Bucky told him.

Jay shrugged. Bucky pulled the box of eggs from the fridge and set about making a scramble.

“You do smell funny,” Benny said behind him.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, then tucked his nose against his own collarbone and gave himself a sniff. He grimaced. Maybe that was what had set off Steve last night; carrying heat-scent from work might’ve put him at risk of rutting. Who knew how a super soldier’s system might respond to heat-scent?

“Had a lotta patients,” he explained. “Why don’t you kids go get the Xbox set up?”

“I wanna play Sonic,” Jay said.

“I wanna play Mario!” Benny complained.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay,” he said. “I’m thinking of a number between one and ten.”

“Ten!” Benny said right away.

Bucky grimaced. “Between eleven and twenty,” he said, quickly picking a number before Benny could shout his out.

“Eleven!” Benny picked.

“Nineteen,” Jay said.

“Was fifteen,” Bucky said. Then stopped, frowning. “Wait.”

“That’s exactly in between eleven and nineteen,” Jay pointed out. “I should win.”

Bucky pinched his nose again. “Take three,” he muttered. “One and twenty.”

“Ten!”

“Nineteen.”

“Four,” Bucky said aloud, “Benny wins, youse play Mario for half an hour and then you switch to Sonic.”

Jay was scowling when Bucky turned around and Benny was pumping his fist in the air. Bucky just shook his head and set about cooking the eggs.

*

Steve liked kids normally. But he did not like Bucky Barnes holding a first-grader on his hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. He especially did not like Bucky Barnes holding a kid on his hip and stinking like some other floozy’s heat.

He didn’t want to run today. He didn’t want to go anywhere. The mission SHIELD had given him had ended with half a dozen people dead because he’d fucked up the evacuation. He felt like shit and his hands were shaking worse than ever before. His stomach ached.

Steve dropped back into bed. He was so exhausted, he was actually sleeping for once.

He couldn’t get the scent of the Alpha upstairs out of his head. Steve got back up from bed and took more suppressants; nine this time. His stomach clenched as he swallowed the pills and he gave in, went to the kitchen and grabbed a protein bar. He ate it in four bites, then just went back to bed and curled up in his blankets. No one could see him, but he refused to cry. His stomach rolled.

Ten minutes later, he was back in the bathroom, throwing up the protein bar he’d just eaten. Steve couldn’t force himself to swallow any more suppressants, even though throwing up meant the ones he’d just taken had come back out again. He went back to bed and let himself fall unconscious, wrapped in half a dozen blankets and still shivering.

His dreams were fevered; Tony Stark loomed over him like Colossus, reminding him that everything special about him came out of a bottle. Doc Erskine told him that the world wasn’t ready for Omegas to be powerful, and especially not Submissives. Steve’s upstairs neighbor slammed him to his knees and told him that that was where he belonged, then, when Steve begged for the attention and praise he craved, shouted at him and hit him in the face with a closed fist. His mother always said that a Dominant should never hit their Submissive with a closed fist.

Steve woke in a panicked sweat. He threw his blankets off and stumbled out of his bedroom, seeking blindly for his medicine cabinet. His skin rolled with warmth and he felt his gut churning; his scent gland burned.

Steve tossed his toothpaste and bottles of generic meds out of his way, searching for a new pack of suppressants. His panic doubled for a second, thinking that he’d run out, until he found a fresh box hiding at the back of the cabinet. He fell to the ground, hitting his knees, and struggled to punch out the pills. He took ten and just lay down on the cool floor of the bathroom. He just needed to rest his eyes, just for a moment.

Steve came out of the fog a few hours later. He pushed up and staggered back into his room. He felt weak, but could only fall back into his bed and slip under his blankets, shivering. He was too cold again.

*

Becca picked the kids up around 10. She was exhausted and Bucky tried to get her to stay the night; he’d long since done up the spare room for the boys and Becca could kip on the couch, but she declined to take the boys home. Bucky lingered on the steps, watching them leave. He wished there was more he could do.

Steve hadn’t left his apartment all day, Bucky was also pretty sure. He stepped back inside and walked up to his neighbor’s door, knocking.

He heard shuffling inside. Bucky stepped back and the door opened. Bucky blinked.

“You look like shit,” he said honestly.

He did; he looked like he had the flu or something, which Bucky was pretty sure was medically impossible with super soldier serum. Either that, or he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

Steve blinked back at him, immediately scowling. “What do you want?” he asked sharply.

“I’m ordering pizza,” Bucky decided on a whim. “Come up and have some.”

Steve just looked at him. “No, thanks,” he said, then shut the door.

Bucky pursed his lips. He shook his head and took the stairs back up. He’d tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _see y'all tomorrow!!_


	4. Hypocritic Oath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _up ahead, more drama and steve gets sick_

#  _4: Hypocritic Oath_

Bucky still ran on Mondays and Thursdays, but Steve didn’t join him again. Bucky still invited him for pizza or a coffee once or twice a week, but Steve always declined. He’d gotten less gruff about it lately, but that didn’t make it less irritating. Bucky kept telling himself that he’d stop trying to make nice with Captain America, the guy could be an asshole if he wanted to, and then kept trying to coax him out of his apartment. Bucky saw him out running all the time; way too often to be because he wanted to keep in shape. 

Way too often, Bucky realized, because after a few months of living with Steve downstairs, he the kid get more and more drained. There were always bags under his eyes. He always looked like he was keeping himself alive on a diet of protein supplements. Bucky would say there wasn’t even kale in Steve’s fridge; he never saw him at any of the nearby grocery stores. And then he was always away on missions; there were times that Bucky heard him come in and then just leave again less than 30 minutes later. Bucky began to recognize the outline of the shield in his gym bag; it was unbelievable how short his turnaround could be.

Bucky eventually caved and told Sam.

“I mean, I kinda feel like it’s violating the Hippocratic oath if I don’t do anything,” he confessed. “Dude’s definitely suffering some kinda PTSD.”

“Have you tried opening up to him?” Sam asked.

“I keep offering him food,” Bucky said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know what else I could do. It’s not like I can walk up to him and say, hey, I notice you seem depressed, wanna talk about it?”

Sam pressed his hands together and touched his fingertips to his nose, inhaling sharply. Then he touched his fingertips to Bucky’s shoulder. “You can exactly walk up to him and say you’ve noticed he seems depressed.”

Bucky blinked. “Really?”

Sam’s nostrils flared as he inhaled again. “Yes.”

“But,” Bucky started. “It’s not like we’re friends?”

“Boy,” Sam said, leaning back and looking at Bucky with frustration, “do you got a functioning mouth?”

“Obviously,” Bucky answered.

“Then give this punk some emotional mouth-to-mouth,” Sam told him. “Seriously. It’s like you’ve learned nothing from being friends with me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve learned something being friends with you,” Bucky defended himself. “I know that chicken needs more seasoning than salt and pepper.”

Sam facepalmed. Bucky laughed and abandoned him to his thoughts.

But heading home, Bucky thought about what Sam said. He could just walk up to Steve and say _Hey. You seem depressed. Can I help?_

After all, that was what Sam had done to him seven or eight years ago. 

Bucky made up his mind. From the outside looking in, Steve was a mess and just kept going down. Even if he declined help, at least Bucky would have tried.

So he walked up to Steve’s door and knocked. Bucky waited a minute, then knocked again.

No one answered him. Bucky grimaced. He knocked a third time, then pressed an ear against the door; maybe Steve was out running again, maybe he just wasn’t answering.

“Steve?” he called.

There was no answer.

But Bucky could smell something sweet coming from inside. He paused, no longer just listening. He pressed close to the door and inhaled. His mind pointed towards Christmas cookies, ones that burnt beyond all hope of salvage. Then his eyes widened with realization and horror.

There was an Omega inside, afraid and in heat. Bucky abandoned all rational thought and just ran to grab the spare key. This was his job, keeping Omegas from being violated while they weren’t capable of consent, and he didn’t care if Steve was a kid he’d been trying to help out, Bucky was gonna call the cops on his ass and take whatever girl was in there to the Heat Ward at Brooklyn General.

“I’m coming in!” Bucky shouted as he unlocked the door.

Shoving it open, it hit something and Bucky had to struggle to get it open. He forced open a gap big enough for him to squeeze through and shoved inside. There was a sofa in front of the door creating a makeshift barricade.

“Hello?” Bucky called, squeezing out from behind the sofa. “Steve? What’s going on?”

No one answered him again. Bucky started to really panic; if Steve had an Omega in here, then Bucky ought to be able to smell Steve’s rut over the burnt cookie smell of scared heat-scent. Hell, Steve should be running out to defend his territory and try to beat the shit out of Bucky, which – Frightening prospect, facing an angry and rutting Captain America. 

But the living room was deserted. The pillows had been stripped from the sofa. The only shut door was to the west side.

“Steve!” he yelled, running for the closed bedroom door. “It’s Bucky, your neighbor!”

Bucky heard someone whimpering on the other side of the bedroom door. Bucky tried to open it, but there was something in the way of it, too. 

“I’m coming in!” Bucky called.

He rammed the door with his shoulder. He heard something heavy on the other side falling and crashing. Inside, he heard – Steve? Steve yelling out in fright?

Bucky pushed his way in. The mattress had been pulled off the bed and there was a massive pile of blankets and pillows making towering walls around it. Steve lay alone in the midst of the nest, with his eyes wide and terrified. Bucky looked around for the Omega, but he only saw Steve.

Bucky looked back at Steve. Steve, wrapped in blankets and wearing sweats and a T-shirt that were soaked through with sweat, was visibly trembling. He lay on his front, twisted to look back at Bucky, and the seat of his pants were darker than the rest of the sweat stains.

Lightbulb.

“Holy shit,” Bucky blurted. “You’re an Omega.”

Steve yanked a blanket over his head. He let out a loud yell that didn’t contain any English and Bucky winced. He put his butt in gear and rushed over to start checking on Steve’s vitals. He definitely had to take him to a hospital, given the fact that Steve’s heat-scent was mixed with so much misery and fear. He dropped to his knees just outside the nest and reached in to take Steve’s pulse, but Steve just yelped and scrambled to get away from him, head poking out of the nest to look at him with horror.

“It’s okay!” Bucky said quickly, falling back and raising his hands. “I’m just trying to help you, Steve! You gotta go to a hospital –”

“No!” Steve shouted. “No hospitals!”

Bucky floundered. “Pal,” he started, “you are at serious risk.”

“I thought the couch would keep people out,” Steve spluttered; his voice trembled like he was about to start crying. “I thought – I thought I locked the doors, I locked the windows!”

“I have a key, remember?” Bucky said quickly. “I smelled heat-scent and I thought –”

He stopped. Steve was clearly delirious and, worse, there were vomit stains on some of his blankets. Bucky glanced around and spotted a trash can nearby. He grabbed it and looked inside; there was thin and watery vomit in it, pale and almost clear, showing the tissues it soaked easily. No chunks. Bad sign.

“Okay,” Bucky said, pushing the can away. “Steve, you need to see a doctor.”

“No,” Steve whimpered.

“You’re ill,” Bucky insisted.

“My suppressants just failed!” Steve shouted at him. “What do you fucking care? Leave me alone!”

Bucky reeled. Steve crumpled into his nest and started crying. Bucky blinked. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He considered calling 911. People called 911 with reports of at-risk Omegas in heat all the time. Hell, Bucky had a shift in a few hours, he could bring Steve in himself.

On the other hand, this was Steve Rogers. Captain America. _An Alpha._

“Why don’t you want to see a doctor?” Bucky asked cautiously.

“Can’t,” Steve mumbled, buried under blankets. “Not allowed.”

“Shit,” Bucky muttered to himself.

Bucky couldn’t out Steve like this. That narrowed his options to exactly one.

He took out his phone and dialed the hospital. He had to punch in the Heat Ward’s extension, then waited while it dialed.

_“Brooklyn General Heat Ward, Claire Temple speaking.”_

“Hey, it’s Bucky,” Bucky started. “Listen. I’ve got an emergency on my hands and I’m not going to be able to make my shift tonight.”

_“‘Kay,”_ Claire said. _“We only got one patient, so don’t sweat it.”_

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make the next shift, either,” Bucky added.

_“Something up with Becca?”_

“Yeah,” Bucky lied. “Thanks, Claire. Sorry about this.”

_“No problem, give us a call when you can make it again.”_

“Sure,” Bucky said, then hung up.

He looked at Steve, piled up in blankets with puke-stains. Bucky steeled his nerves.

“Come here,” he growled.

Steve’s faint whimpering hitched under the blankets. Bucky grimaced at the sound of his own Alpha voice and rubbed at his throat.

“Steve,” he said, commanding, “come here.”

Steve pushed up from the blankets, looking at Bucky with wide eyes. He etched nearer, like he didn’t want to actually obey but couldn’t help it. Bucky felt awful, but it was better than physically forcing him. 

It was probably a sign of how weak the heat was making Steve feel at all that he obeyed Bucky’s orders this easily; Steve had never been submissive before this.

“You’re gonna come upstairs with me,” Bucky told him firmly. “I’m gonna help you through this, okay? I promise I won’t touch you unless I absolutely have to, but I can’t leave you down here.”

“Why not?” Steve mumbled. “‘M fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Bucky insisted. “How many times have you thrown up today?”

Steve hesitated. “I dunno,” he said.

“You’re super sick, buddy,” Bucky told him. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Steve flinched all over. He shrank in on himself and pulled a blanket over his head, hiding.

“Look at me,” Bucky commanded.

Steve reluctantly pulled the blanket away from his face. Bucky gave him a stern look.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked again.

Steve just shrugged. 

“When?” Bucky pressed, raising his eyebrows.

“Yesterday?” Steve mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “‘M sorry, I couldn’t focus – I couldn’t – I was really hungry –”

“Why are you sorry?” Bucky interrupted him, horrified. “Are you sorry for _eating?_ ”

Steve just whined again and hid in his blanket. Bucky swept a hand over his face and glanced around again.

“We’re gonna go up to my place,” Bucky decided. “That’s gonna help you stabilize, alright? I won’t touch you but being in an Alpha’s territory will help your hormones calm down.”

Steve didn’t answer him, only whimpered into his blankets. Bucky sighed.

“I’ll heat up some chicken soup,” he added. “We’ll see if you can keep it down.”

Steve still didn’t say anything. Bucky debated asking Steve to walk and picking him up.

“Hey,” he said, gentle but firm. “Look at me?”

Steve just shrank deeper into his blankets. Bucky sighed.

“Alright, buddy,” he said.

Bucky pushed up and slipped his arms around Steve’s huddled body. He took the blanket, too. Steve didn’t fight to get away but didn’t try to stand. Bucky lifted Steve with difficulty, but kept in a grunt because he didn’t need to make Steve feel worse about food-intake. 

“C’mon,” Bucky said gently. “We’re goin’ upstairs.”

Steve was heavy, or Bucky just wasn’t up to picking up guys who were over 6 foot. At the same time, Bucky was definitely sure that he should be heavier.

This shit was way deeper than Bucky had been worried about. This shit was some next level fucked up.

Bucky ended up carrying Steve fireman style up to his apartment, with major difficulty that reminded Bucky he wasn’t in his 20s anymore and he didn’t do enough pull-ups these days, considering he averaged two a month. Bucky put Steve somewhere around 180 pounds, give or take, which was how much he knew his sister weighed and she was a heavyweight boxer. Steve, pure All-American Beef with more muscle than a muscle car? Was in the men’s lightweight category easily. 

Bucky had major concerns. He definitely could not do nothing if he wanted to keep to the Hippocratic Oath.

“Here you go,” Bucky said, lowering Steve onto his sofa. “I’m gonna get you a different blanket, kiddo, that one’s kinda dirty.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just grabbed a pillow and hid his face in it. Bucky hovered anxiously for a second. 

He was not some college kid trying to keep their Omega best friend comfortable during a really uncomfortable part of their natural cycle. He was a _heat nurse._ He did this every single fucking day. Why was _this_ heat patient any different?

(Who’s he kidding, Bucky was still mentally freaking out over _STEVE IS AN OMEGA?????!?_ )

The sheet Steve was wrapped in definitely had puke on it; Bucky was worried Steve had puke on his _clothes,_ which would be a whole other can of worms. Standing there, Bucky fretted for a second about how to get Steve out of the blanket he was currently wrapped in and give him ones that smelled like a linen closet. 

The hospital had a separate laundry room for the Heat Ward and every load was given a dose of artificial neutral pheromones, the kind newborns produced, to best trick raging heat hormones into thinking that there was no need to rage. Bucky’s laundry did not have that artificial pheromone. Heatsick Omegas really did not like foreign smells.

“Hey,” Bucky said gently, kneeling down next to Steve and prodding the sofa cushion instead of Steve himself. “How ‘bout we get you in some clean blankets, huh, kid?”

Steve did not answer him. Bucky listened closely and realized that Steve was crying again. Bucky pulled back and mouthed a curse.

The second best option when artificial newborn baby smell was not available? The actual Alpha scents on Bucky’s personal bedding.

Bucky reluctantly got back up and headed into his room. He wasn’t going to put Steve in his bed, no way he wanted Steve to come out of it and find himself in an unfamiliar bed, which meant he just had to take the comforter off the bed. Bucky tugged it off, gave it a sniff, and regretted the fact that he didn’t wash his sheets that often. He could only hope that Steve wouldn’t be able to tell if there was old spunk on it. There probably wasn’t, Bucky wasn’t a teenager anymore.

Bucky returned to the couch again. He held the blanket near to Steve’s face and gently touched his shoulder.

“How about this one?” he suggested. “It’s clean and don’t got that nasty upchuck on it.”

Steve did not emerge from the sheet. Bucky grimaced.

“Give me the sheet,” he said in a careful command. “Take this blanket instead.”

Steve whined quietly. Bucky grimaced more, but Steve squirmed to tug the sheet off of him and snatched the comforter from Bucky’s hand instead. Bucky bundled up the old sheet and carried it away to deal with later. Steve wrapped up in the comforter, making himself a burrito, and hid in the pillows again. Bucky still didn’t know if he had puke on his clothes. He sighed, then picked up the blankets he’d gotten from the closet and gently tucked them around Steve, trying to create some semblance of a nest. Steve already had the pillows; he had one garishly orange cushion tucked under his head, another bright green one and a larger patterned blue cushion wedged behind him. Bucky stood up, just looking at him for a moment, and realized that Steve had his old teddy bear hugged to his chest. Bucky hadn’t even realized the bear was in the living room; Benny must have drug it out the last time he was there. Steve was hugging it like a lifesaver. 

Bucky turned away, shaking his head hard. 

“I’m gonna make you some chicken broth,” Bucky decided. “I got crackers, too, we’ll see how you take those and go from there, okay?”

Steve didn’t say anything. Bucky sighed and started rummaging in his cupboards.

Chicken broth found, Bucky poured it into a mug and heated it up in the microwave. He found some saltines and a tub of dry Gatorade powder. Bucky hoped Steve didn’t mind lemon lime. He mixed that up, making it a little weak in case the taste would bother him, and carried it to the sofa.

“Steve,” he said, using his Alpha voice again, “drink this.”

Steve twisted to sit up. He took the glass Bucky gave him and sipped at it. Bucky watched him carefully, but Steve didn’t seem to dislike the taste and drank it down easily. Which was a relief. Bucky knelt down next to the sofa and held out his hand. Steve pressed the glass into it, then lay down again and went to hide again.

“Hey, can I have your hand for a second?” Bucky asked. “I need to take your pulse and check how dehydrated you are.”

Steve whimpered a little. Bucky sighed.

“Give me your hand,” he commanded.

Steve shrank away but stuck out his hand. Bucky took it gingerly, wishing he had gloves, and grabbed his phone to set a quick timer and take Steve’s pulse. He clocked in at 112; for a guy of his fitness and size, that was way past too quick.

“Oof,” Bucky muttered to himself. “Buddy, your heart’s not happy about any of this.”

Steve mumbled something that might’ve been an agreement. Bucky turned Steve’s arm over and pinched the back of his hand firmly but briefly, checking its turgor. The skin resettled slowly. Bucky grimaced.

“How much water have you drunk in the past 24 hours?” he asked.

Steve waved his hand. Bucky sighed and grabbed the empty glass.

“I’ll get you more Gatorade,” he said. “Hang tight.”

If they’d been at the hospital, Bucky would have called for an IV with fluids and intravenous calorie supplements purely out of paranoia. But they weren’t at the hospital, they were in his apartment. Steve was seriously dehydrated, his vomit was pale and watery, he was worryingly light. Bucky had been a heat nurse for four years and he’d seen heat-sickness like this only a couple of times, mostly in anorexic or bulimic Omegas. (Or in completely different circles, in widows.) This was way out of the ballpark of combat-related PTSD symptoms Bucky had been worried about in his downstairs neighbor. He felt a lot out of his depth. And again, he’d been doing this for a long ass time.

Bucky brought in another glass of Gatorade, complete with ice for Steve to suck on or chew, and the warmed up chicken broth, a sleeve of saltines tucked under his arm. He knelt down by the sofa and nudged Steve’s shoulder.

“Sit up and drink this for me,” he asked.

Steve shook his head from under his blanket. Bucky put the Gatorade and chicken broth down, then sat back and just waited for a minute.

“I need you to sit up and drink,” he asked again.

Steve ignored him completely this time.

“Steve,” Bucky said firmly.

“‘M sorry,” Steve mumbled.

“C'mon, you can drink it,” Bucky encouraged gently. “It’s just Gatorade and chicken broth, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No,” Steve muttered, “won’t.”

“It will,” Bucky promised. “Buddy, I’m a nurse, remember? I know what I’m talking about.”

Steve peaked out from his hiding place in the teddy bear. Bucky offered him a smile.

“It’s just Gatorade and chicken broth,” he repeated. “It’ll make your stomach feel better.”

Steve blinked for a second, looking miserable, but then he pushed up and reached out. Bucky gave him the Gatorade first and Steve sipped it slowly. Like Bucky had guessed, Steve quickly swallowed a cube of ice and started crunching it, already sinking back into the sofa.

“How does your head feel?” Bucky asked.

“Hurts,” Steve said shortly.

“What kinda hurt?” Bucky asked, tipping his head to the side. “Is it a dull pain or a stabby pain?”

Steve grimaced as he took another sip of Gatorade. “Dull,” he said eventually.

“Anywhere in particular?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head a little. Bucky pressed his lips together.

“Probably dehydration,” he said. “Your heat’s making it worse.”

Steve looked down, the bags under his eyes standing out against his pale skin. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“Hey, no need to apologize,” Bucky told him quickly. “Happens to, like, a third of the population.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He sipped the Gatorade, then lowered the glass and looked around. Bucky picked up the sleeve of crackers and ripped open the plastic, then offered it to Steve.

“This’ll help, too,” he said.

Steve shook his head, recoiling. Bucky raised his eyebrows and pushed the crackers a little closer.

“You gotta get something in your stomach to absorb the liquid,” he said. “Like, you got too much stomach acid in there and it’s makin’ your tummy upset. You gotta pack in some light carbs.”

Steve just shook his head. He put down the Gatorade and hugged his knees to his stomach.

“Are you nauseous still?” Bucky asked.

“No,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky could spot a lie when he heard one, regardless of how pale Steve was still and the way he avoided the light in the room.

“How about you try one?” Bucky asked then, plucking a single cracker from the sleeve. “Just one, we’ll see what happens.”

Steve looked at the cracker for a long moment. Then he turned onto his side and laid down again, hiding his face from view. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, “won’t do it again.”

Bucky fell back. He mouthed _won’t do it again_ and shook his head. 

He slipped the cracker back into the sleeve and put it where Steve could reach it. He got up and walked away, heading into his own room, and shut the door behind him. Dragging a hand over his face, Bucky tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

Steve really did need a hospital. An IV drip of fluids and sedatives and maybe some painkillers. He definitely didn’t need to be shunning fucking crackers and apologizing to _Bucky_ left and right.

Bucky really had a moral dilemma. On the one hand, Steve had a lot of good reasons to be hiding his designation. He could be trans. It could be a huge fucking government conspiracy. It could be that there was something Bucky didn’t know that kept him from talking about it. Bucky had no right to expose Steve. On the other hand, Steve needed a hospital.

Bucky wandered back out of his room and just looked at the lumpy form of Steve’s burritoed body on the sofa. He wandered closer eventually, then knelt down and touched Steve’s shoulder again.

“Sit up and drink some more, please,” he did his best to request in a commanding tone.

Steve sat up, listless almost like he was drugged. He took the glass of Gatorade from Bucky and drained it, then accepted the mug of chicken broth and drained it, too. Bucky held up the sleeve of crackers.

“Eat some of these,” he added, still commanding.

Steve hesitated, then at Bucky’s raised eyebrows, took one and lay down again. He began to nibble on it like he didn’t want to eat it, looking completely miserable. 

Bucky wished he didn’t have to do this. He always hated having to coax patients into eating or taking medication against their will, but doing nothing would be as good as doing them harm.

“I’m gonna give you 24 hours,” Bucky said gently. “If you don’t start to improve, I’m gonna have to take you to a hospital.”

Steve whined and shrank into the sofa. “No!” he insisted. “Can’t go anywhere!”

“It’ll be for your own good!” Bucky insisted. “If you get worse – You’re already doin’ pretty bad, kid. I’m serious. If you don’t start improving, I can’t just let you get sicker.”

Steve pulled the blanket over his head, softly whining. Bucky’s heart ached for him. 

“We’ll see how you’re doin’ in a day,” he repeated. “If you keep eating and drinking, you might be fine.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Bucky got up and headed back into his kitchen to heat up chicken noodle soup from the fridge. At the very least, he could get Steve to drink some better broth.

Bucky stayed up all night to keep Steve drinking fluids. After he got him to down a few glasses of the slightly weak Gatorade, Bucky switched to regular water and made sure Steve kept that down. He remembered seeing an empty protein bar wrapper in Steve’s trash can, and the more fluids Steve took in without vomiting, Bucky wondered if it had just been eating at all that had made him throw up. He let Steve nibble on the crackers over the period of a few hours, then gave him more broth and another sleeve of crackers. 

After seven hours, Bucky had been able to coax Steve into eating two sleeves of the saltines and drinking three more cups of broth, two of which had the extra nutrients of the chicken and vegetables in the soup. After that, Bucky let him just sip on fluids and kept an eye on him, hoping he’d sleep. 

Steve did not sleep. Bucky suspected he might not.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked at hour nine.

Steve just lifted a shoulder. Bucky checked his temperature by touching his forehead, but his fever was low, like it should be for heat. He checked his skin turgor again and sighed in relief as Steve’s skin snapped back a little faster.

“I think you’re gonna be okay,” he said. “Do you think you could eat some soup later?”

Steve shook his head. Bucky pressed his lips together and held back another sigh, this one of frustration.

“We’ll see,” Bucky said. “Get some sleep.”

Steve hid in the blanket. Bucky dropped himself into the easy chair, put up the footrest and leaned back. It was well into the night, but he would’ve been at work had this not come up and his body didn’t feel like sleeping. Especially not with Steve’s heat and distress scent fucking with his head. Bucky hadn’t been worried that he might rut when he first busted into his apartment, but now, there was a stressed tic in the back of his mind that questioned the fact that this time, the heat-scent was in _his_ space.

Bucky left Steve alone for a while; not completely alone, of course, he stayed in the room. But he didn’t ask him to eat or drink anything, hoping that Steve might actually sleep. He really doubted that he did, but the hope was there.

Sunlight stained the living room window. Bucky watched the line of light crawl across the floor and around seven, he got up and headed into the kitchen. He turned the fire on underneath the pot of soup and checked the fridge for yogurt. He made another glass of Gatorade, just a little weak like before, added ice and carried it out to Steve.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly. “You awake?”

Steve didn’t stir, so Bucky just put down the glass and took away the old one. He went back into the kitchen, then started loading his dishwasher.

The burnt cookie smell was starting to fade off. Bucky returned to the living room and sat back down in the armchair, watching Steve.

He was actually asleep. Bucky got up, grabbed a sleep mask from his bedroom, then resumed his place in the easy chair with his feet up and the chair tipped back. He pulled on the mask and settled back, letting himself catch sleep of his own.

*

Steve’s dreams were vivid and fleeting. But a constant had him realizing that he was dreaming at all; someone was snoring.

Steve opened his eyes and two things occurred to him. He wasn’t in his apartment. He was surrounded by the smell of an Alpha. He very quickly panicked.

He threw the blankets covering him off and sat up rapidly, looking around wildly. Bucky, his neighbor, was passed out in an armchair next to the sofa Steve was on, the source of the snoring. But before Steve could gather his wits enough to bolt, Bucky woke with a snort and tugged the mask off his eyes to blink around.

“You’re awake,” he said dumbly.

“How did I get here?” Steve demanded.

Bucky grimaced a little. “You don’t remember,” he said flatly.

“How did I get here?” Steve repeated more firmly.

“I carried you,” Bucky said. He put down the footrest of his chair and sat forward, leaning onto his knees. “You were really out of it, you were dehydrated and you’d been throwing up. It was either bring you up here so I could keep an eye on you or call 911.”

“Why didn’t you leave me in my apartment?” Steve demanded again. “Why the hell did you bother me to begin with?”

“I smelled heat-scent,” Bucky said, like it should have been obvious. “Uh,” he added, grimacing again, “I actually thought you had someone with you that needed help. I got into your place ‘cause the Omega smelled terrified and I thought – But it was just you,” he said quickly, still sounding apologetic. “You still needed help.”

“I was _fine,_ ” Steve spat angrily. He kicked the blankets that he’d been huddled in off the sofa completely and glared at Bucky. “You had no right!”

“You were far from fine,” Bucky answered calmly, “you’d been throwing up, you were really dehydrated, you hadn’t eaten in long enough that you were just throwing up bile. I have chicken noodle soup,” he added, sounding completely neutral.

Steve jumped up from the sofa. “I was fine!” he yelled with sudden rage. “You had no business going into my apartment in the first place!”

“Hey, I was responding to distress scent,” Bucky defended himself, not even getting up from his chair to yell back at Steve. “And like I said, it was bring you up here or take you to a hospital!”

“Did you tell anyone?” Steve demanded in a gasp. 

His eyes widened and he stumbled back, panicking again, but his foot hit something and he jumped around; he’d knocked over a glass of something which was quickly soaking into the rug.

“That was just Gatorade,” Bucky said, finally getting up. “I’ll grab paper towels, hang on.”

Steve drew into himself, hugging himself and stepping back. His back hit the wall and he sank down it, dropping onto the floor hard. He didn’t feel sore…

Bucky returned and dabbed up the spill. Steve hugged his knees and tried to calm his raging emotions. He felt disgusting, that was the most prevalent mood. Violated, invaded, exposed.

“Did you use a condom?” he asked hesitantly.

Bucky jerked his head up and stared wide-eyed at Steve. Steve immediately hid his face against his knees and began mentally berating himself for letting this happen again. He’d known the suppressants were getting weak again, he should’ve taken more –

“I did not rape you,” Bucky said firmly. 

Steve jerked his head back up. Bucky dropped back into his armchair and just shook his head.

“You stayed on the couch and I stayed over here,” Bucky informed him. “No sex happened, I didn’t even help you change your clothes – I swear to _God,_ ” he added.

“But –” Steve muttered. “But you – I was in heat?”

“And therefore unable to consent,” Bucky pointed out. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking away. “Even if I _had_ offered, I really doubt you would have been DTF,” he said, sounding disturbed by the idea, “you were pretty sick.”

Steve blinked. Bucky held up his hands, then got up and walked away. Steve watched him leave, then started thinking about the Alpha's scent in the room.

It was just Bucky’s natural scent. Steve couldn’t smell rut at all.

“How did you not rut?” he immediately asked, voice raised to reach the kitchen.

“I don’t rut easily,” Bucky explained, back to Steve. “Partly because I’m in my 30s and partly because I have major self-control.”

Steve just blinked. He almost couldn’t believe it, but it was definitely a relief. He exhaled hard and fell back a little against the wall. He wasn’t sore at all, because nothing had happened this time. He felt almost lethargic now.

“So you just – you just kept an eye on me?”

“I had to get you to eat and drink,” Bucky answered. He walked back into the living room and leaned against the half-wall between the kitchen and living room. “You really didn’t want to. But you also really needed to. Sorry.”

Steve shrugged a little. “Um, what did you feed me?”

“Saltines,” Bucky said. “And chicken broth. Also Gatorade and water, dehydration and all. But I have chicken soup, you should have some now.”

Steve glanced down himself and shrugged. He was hungry. It was just soup. 

“Fine,” he muttered. “Are you going to release me any time soon?”

“Once you eat,” Bucky answered. “But, seriously, Steve. You have to get checked out at a hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital,” Steve insisted. “I just – I just need to take more suppressants –”

“What suppressants are you taking?” Bucky asked, pushing off the wall with a frown to approach.

Steve shrugged, blinking. “Generic brands,” he said, “from whatever drugstore I grab them from.”

“Did you miss a dose?” Bucky asked further. “You said something about them failing –”

“They did fail,” Steve said, looking away, “I took ‘em last maybe four hours before – before it happened. I just need to take them more often or more –”

“How often are you taking them?” Bucky cut him off, suddenly sounding worried. “And what dose are you taking?”

Steve hesitated. 

“If you took ‘em on time and still had that heat happen,” Bucky said, tone serious, “then your body was probably trying to purge your system because you’re taking too many.”

“I just process them fast!” Steve snapped. “The serum makes me go through ‘em quickly –”

“What dose are you taking and how often?” Bucky demanded.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed, “whenever my scent starts to come back in or my scent glands itch.”

“What dose?” Bucky asked again.

“Whatever the regular dose is!” Steve insisted. “Can you drop this?”

“Steve,” Bucky said, firm and compelling, “how many pills are you taking at a time?”

“Twelve,” Steve mumbled reluctantly.

“Twelve!” Bucky burst out.

Steve winced. Bucky drew in a sharp breath and Steve just buried his face in his arms.

“Do you know what happens when you OD on suppressants?” Bucky demanded. “Intense stress heats or _death,_ Steve! You’re fucking killing yourself!”

“I just go through them fast!” Steve defended himself.

“You need to see a doctor,” Bucky insisted. “Seriously, holy shit, you have to see a doctor about this.”

“I can’t!” Steve snapped.

Bucky knelt down in front of Steve and dropped onto his hip. “Why?” he asked.

Steve just looked at him for a second. Bucky looked serious.

“Captain America’s an Alpha,” Steve said quietly. “I’m not supposed to be an Omega. Nobody can know. It’s bad enough you know!”

“Am I the only person who knows this?” Bucky asked, eyes widening with surprise.

Steve hesitated. “Peggy knew,” he mumbled.

“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered. He shifted onto his ass and pressed both hands over his face, then swept them down and just covered his mouth. “Holy shit,” he muttered behind them.

“I can’t go to a doctor,” Steve repeated.

“You can’t keep overdosing yourself on over-the-counter suppressants,” Bucky said, dropping his hands. “This –” he swirled a finger in the air “– will just happen again, if you’re lucky. Or it’ll kill you. I’m serious, punk.”

Steve just looked at him. “But…” he muttered.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hands suddenly. “Fuck whoever said that you’re not allowed to be an Omega,” he said firmly. “Fuck whoever decided that Captain America absolutely had to be an Alpha. Fuck the Army and the United States and SHIELD and the Avengers! This is your _life_ we’re talking about!” he concluded vehemently.

Steve just blinked for a moment. Then he gingerly pulled his hands back. Bucky sighed heavily as Steve drew back.

“I didn’t know it was bad,” Steve whispered.

“Nobody thinks they can OD on suppressants, kiddo,” Bucky told him gently. “But it happens. I’ve seen it happen.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled hopelessly.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Bucky said with a shake of his head. “You don’t have to apologize to anyone. Not for this, not for hurting, not for being hungry –”

Steve’s eyes widened. Bucky stopped himself and then just grimaced again.

“How much do you eat in a day, kid?” he asked.

“I try not to go over a thousand calories,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky thinned his lips again. He nodded and glanced down, then sighed and looked back up, eyebrows drawn together.

“Do you actually eat that many every day?”

Steve hesitated. He did not want to answer. But slowly, he shook his head.

“How ‘bout veggies?” Bucky asked gently. “Healthy fats? Omega-3s?”

“I have protein bars,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky nodded slowly. He leaned forward and touched Steve’s knee.

“That’s not healthy, kid,” he said gently. “You’re, like, Olympic-level high endurance athlete. A thousand calories a day is what a regular Omega would eat if they were actively trying to _lose_ weight; at an unhealthy rate at that!”

“But –” Steve stammered. “But I’m overweight,” he said uselessly.

Bucky frowned at him, tipping his head to the side. “Who said you were overweight?” he asked.

“Google,” Steve muttered. “My BMI’s too high…”

“Oh, boy,” Bucky muttered back, falling back again. “Kid. Muscle’s heavier than fat, yannow that, right? You’re over-exercising and undereating – you’re not overweight, I promise.”

Steve stared blankly at him. Bucky squeezed his knee.

“You need to see a doctor,” he said gently. “And a shrink wouldn’t hurt either.”

Steve couldn’t answer him. Bucky squeezed his knee one more time, then pushed back and stood up. Steve felt cold after he walked away.

“Come have some soup,” he offered. “I can hook you up with a good GYN.”

Steve pushed up from the floor. “What kinda nurse are you?” he asked weakly.

“Heat nurse,” Bucky said, turning away.

Steve blinked, stunned. 

“Is that why you always smell like heat?” he blurted.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and grimaced again. “Yeah,” he said. “I try to scrub it off at the hospital but sometimes I don’t get it all.”

“Oh,” Steve said uselessly.

Bucky jerked his head towards the kitchen. “Soup,” he insisted kindly. “Good stuff for your body and your soul.”

Steve forced his feet forward. He really was hungry. And cold. He picked up the blanket that he’d woken up in and wrapped it around himself as he followed Bucky into the kitchen. Numbly, he sat down and Bucky put a bowl down in front of him, then handed him a spoon.

“I got yogurt or lemon juice, if you wanna put something in it,” he said.

Steve shook his head and just picked up the spoon. He hesitated, glancing up, and Bucky gave him a nod. Steve hated that he felt like he needed permission from a Dom to fucking eat.

The soup was good. He was still hungry after a bowlful.

“Can I have more?” he asked with reluctance.

“Of course,” Bucky said easily.

Steve hated that he felt like he needed Bucky’s approval, much less anyone’s. He hated how fragile he felt. He hated how soothing Bucky’s scent was and how warm the soup made him feel.

“I’m gonna go home,” he said after draining the second bowl. Still hungry.

“That’s fair,” Bucky told him. “You want some help cleaning up down there?”

Steve shook his head. He pushed up, then reluctantly gave up the blanket he wore. He wanted to get away. He wanted to stay. He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to collapse and let Bucky just take care of him. He always felt so _tired._

“I’m gonna check on you later,” Bucky said then. “And if you need help finding a doctor –”

“I just need to go home,” Steve interrupted him.

Bucky fell silent. Steve felt like a stranger in his own skin. He couldn’t smell himself under the Alpha’s scent on him.

He didn’t thank Bucky, just left. He found himself wandering back into the bathroom. Opening the cabinet behind the mirror and grabbing a box of suppressants.

Steve flipped it around and read the fine print. Take 2 every twelve hours as directed by a doctor and no more than 4 in 24 hours. Overdosing could lead to hormone imbalances, stress heat, liver or kidney damage, or death.

Steve felt guilt burning in the back of his throat as he punched out 4 pills. If he just took 4, he might be fine. His system processed them a lot faster was all.

He showered. Dumped the trash can full of puke. Changed the sheets, cleared out the nest. His skin was uncomfortably hot, he felt a fever burning low in his chest. He just collapsed into bed and hoped that when he woke up, everything would be fine.

He woke up to his scent gland burning and his underwear soaked in slick. He ran to the bathroom and took 4 more pills. His hands shook, he was flushed and felt exhausted. His gut panged, cramping with hunger, and Steve reluctantly took a protein bar from the kitchen. He started eating it, but it stuck to his teeth and he couldn’t bring himself to actually swallow it. He spat it out and grabbed a shake instead. That coated his throat with a gritty taste and left him hacking up phlegm. 

Hacking up phlegm tripped his gag reflex. Steve threw up again, this time into the kitchen trash. He abandoned the protein shake and just filled a glass with water; his hands shook so much, he dropped the glass and it hit the floor and shattered.

Steve backed off from it, heart pounding. He messed up, he was so fucking stupid, how was he such a klutz? He tried to clean up the broken glass but just cut himself by accident, dripping blood all over the pristine white tiles. He gave up. He was just useless, no wonder there wasn’t a Dom in the world that wanted him; no wonder _Bucky,_ his fucking _neighbor,_ didn’t want him.

He lay down on his bare mattress, shivering. His body felt like it was burning up on the outside but his core was encased in ice. Ice that was just creeping out and freezing him solid. His body felt heavy and his lungs struggled to inhale like he was underwater. His throat burned all down his chest. Steve couldn’t do anything but lie flat as he cried on every painful inhale.

The scent gland in his neck burned. Steve thought he took more suppressants? Why was he burning up so much? Why was he so cold? What was wrong with him?

“Steve? Steve, you in there?”

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe all of it was just a dream and he’d wake up and none of it would have ever happened. Maybe it was purgatory. Or hell. He probably deserved hell, once Steve really thought about it.

“Steve, gimme an answer, bud!”

“Go away,” Steve called out.

The words got stuck in his throat and Steve had to cough to get them out. He rolled onto his belly and pushed up on his elbows, coughing furiously, and spat out mucus that was pink. His stomach churned, his head spun, and he barely had time to grab the trashcan by his bed before he was vomiting again. 

“I’m coming in!”

Steve was too busy heaving to answer. Then he heard someone swearing violently and he recoiled, pushing the trashcan away to clamp his arms over his head and keep whoever it was out.

“Goddammit, Steve, I told you not to take any more suppressants!”

“‘M sorry,” Steve whined instinctively, “didn’t mean to… Sorry –”

“Sit up, sit up, come on –”

Steve obeyed the hands pulling on him. He put his back against the wall and let his head hang forward, guarding his throat. He just kept apologizing.

“Ohmygod,” he heard Bucky saying. “Shit, shit, Steve, is this blood? Were you puking blood?”

“‘M sorry,” Steve mumbled.

“ _Shit –_ ”

Steve’s face felt like it was on fire but his chest was freezing. He slumped sideways again, then started coughing.

“No, no, sit up, I’m calling an ambulance, sit up, kid –”

“Sorry,” Steve just said, struggling to obey, “didn’t – didn’t mean to – I’m sorry –”

“Lean on me,” Bucky ordered him. “Here, you’re alright, honey, just lean on me.”

Steve slumped onto the shoulder next to him. He shut his eyes and tried to keep his breathing even, trying to go back to sleep, but he kept coughing.

“ – listen, I need an ambulance, I’ve got a heat-sick Omega vomiting blood, he’s overdosed on suppressants –”

“Sorry,” Steve just muttered.

“ – Steven Rogers, 20-something years old, he’s been overdosing himself on OTC suppressants, he had a stress heat just yesterday but it stopped and now it’s back and he’s puking blood –”

Bucky’s Alpha scent was soothing. Steve turned towards him and tried to get closer; maybe if he had an Alpha, a Dom, maybe if he leaned on Bucky, maybe his body would stop freaking out so much. He liked Bucky, he was nice and didn’t mind Steve eating so much –

“When’s the ambulance gonna be here? No, you gotta take him to Brooklyn General, I’m a heat nurse there, I’ve been taking care of him –”

Steve coughed and covered his mouth, minding his manners. He spat out more mucus and tried to clear his throat, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He kept coughing.

“– James Barnes, APRN, I’m one of the head nurses at the Heat Ward –”

Steve blinked at his palm and the pink and brown mucus; he wrinkled his nose and looked around for something to wipe his hand clean on.

“Hey, hey, come back here,” Bucky said, grabbing Steve’s shirt as he pulled away. “Stay sitting up, you gotta keep upright.”

“Sorry,” Steve repeated.

“Just come here,” Bucky told him, wrapping an arm around him firmly. “I gotchu, kid.”

Steve leaned into his side. He didn’t mind Bucky so much. And knowing that Bucky was just a nurse and smelled like heat all the time because of that made him feel better; he wanted Bucky to himself.

“EMTs are gonna be here in a minute,” Bucky said. “You have to go to the ER, Steve.”

“‘M fine,” Steve mumbled, “just stay here.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t let that happen.”

Steve waved a hand. “‘M fine,” he insisted.

Bucky rubbed a hand over his shoulder. “You’re not fine, buddy. And you ain’t gonna be happy with me, but you gotta go to the hospital.”

Steve blinked his eyes open. He frowned and blinked at Bucky’s knees.

“What?”

“You’re goin’ to the ER,” Bucky said. “We’re gonna have to pump your stomach, I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Steve said, slowly realizing. “Wait, no! No, I can’t!”

“I’m sorry –”

“No!” Steve yelled, yanking away. “No, I can’t go to a hospital! I can’t let anyone know!”

“You’re puking blood, Steve!” Bucky insisted.

Steve fell away, crawling back, his heart pounded and he felt lightheaded. “I just need more suppressants,” he stammered, “they’re in the bathroom –”

He started to get up. Bucky caught his arm and pulled him back down; Steve fell into his lap and Bucky locked his arms around him.

“Stay here,” Bucky growled.

Steve whined and went limp, turning his head to press against the Alpha. “‘M sorry,” he whimpered and Bucky shushed him, petting down his arm.

“Just hold still,” Bucky said, “EMTs’ll be here in’a minute and we’ll get you some painkillers and something to help you sleep. You’re gonna be fine.”

Steve just whined again, desperate for the Alpha’s approval, he tipped his head back and bared his throat. Bucky shushed him again, rubbing his arm.

“Alpha,” Steve whined. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry –”

“You’re okay,” Bucky cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong, kid, alright?”

Steve whimpered softly; he didn’t feel forgiven. He’d fucked up, he’d disobeyed, Bucky was mad at him. He let his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder, leaving his throat exposed to him, and whined more. Bucky only rubbed his shoulder over his T-shirt. Steve was pathetic.

Distantly, he heard knocking.

“Stand up,” Bucky said, “time to get up.”

Steve started to get up. His knees buckled, but Bucky caught him by the waist and pulled him up.

“I gotchu,” he said, “lean on me, kid.”

Steve fumbled, stumbling over his own feet. Bucky pulled his arm over his shoulder and grabbed him by the waist, holding Steve up while he staggered. Steve tried to look where he was going, but the light hurt his eyes and he hissed with pain, ducking his head and trying to press against the Alpha again.

“No, just keep walkin’,” Bucky told him quickly, “you can lay down again in a second.”

“Where –” Steve muttered, blinking; they were in the hallway. “Where are you taking me?”

Bucky opened the front door. Steve threw a hand up to cover his eyes against the light and yanked away from Bucky.

“Leave me alone!” he yelled, stumbling back. “I’m fine!”

“Careful!”

Steve tripped and fell, but arms caught him. He was pushed back onto something soft and hands pushed his shoulders down while someone picked his legs up. 

“How long has it been since this started?”

“I don’t know, he was fine this morning, around nine –”

“Jus’ need t’a stay home,” Steve mumbled to himself. “Got – got meds in the bathroom –”

“He’s been taking twelve pills at a time, I don’t know how often –”

“They’re ready to pump his stomach at the hospital; you comin’, Barnes?”

“Yeah, can you give me two seconds to grab keys ‘n’ shit?”

“Do that while we load ‘im up.”

Steve felt whatever he was lying on moving. Someone strapped something to his face and he suddenly could breathe a little better. His eyes felt heavy, too, his mind started to get foggy.

“Got everything?”

“Yeah, you givin’ ‘im sedatives in that?”

“Yeah, so he won’t freak out anymore.”

“Thank God, he’s gonna be pissed, he doesn’t wanna go to a hospital.”

“Tough shit.”

Steve tried to open his eyes and look around. Bucky’s face swam in his vision.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Steve mumbled into the mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _chapters 5 and 6 will also be out today, so keep an eye on your emails!_


	5. 21st-Century F(eminism)ox

#  _5: 21st-Century F(eminism)ox_

Bucky mentally strangled himself all through the ambulance ride to the hospital for letting Steve go back to his apartment alone at all, let alone not dragging his delirious ass to the ER in the first place. He wouldn’t be surprised if the hospital kicked him off the Heat Ward for fucking up this badly. He should’ve known Steve would just take more suppressants the second he was on his own and now he was heat-sick _again._

Getting Steve from the ambulance and into the Heat Ward was a fog. They had to take him through the main hospital to get his stomach pumped first; some idiot Alpha in the ER ignored the memo that they were bringing an Omega in heat through and ended up rutting. Security rushed in and dragged him out before Bucky could tear up his ass on his own. 

Claire jumped up from her seat as Bucky burst in with Steve and the EMTs; AJ and Tish. “What the –” she started.

She’d been briefed that he was bringing someone in. She was gawking at Steve’s pale face.

“I need an IV drip of fluids,” Bucky just told her, “call in someone from the pharmacy to be on standby with painkillers and sedatives, I don’t know how his system is gonna respond to the usual dose.”

“That’s Captain America!” Claire gasped.

“Exactly, pharmacist on standby!” Bucky snapped. “Grab room seven, it’s empty –”

“Got it,” AJ answered, already steering Steve’s gurney that way.

Steve was out of it but conscious; they still had him on oxygen with a sedative, but it wasn’t putting him out and he kept trying to fight them.

“Alice!” Bucky called, spotting the extra nurse and waving her over. “I’m gonna need him restrained, ankle and wrist straps!”

“Got it!” Alice answered.

“Pharmacy’s sending someone up,” Claire informed Bucky, following him into #7. “What the hell’s going on?”

“He’s OD’d on suppressants,” Bucky said, helping AJ and Tish park the bed. “We already pumped his stomach, but he’s been vomiting and coughing up blood. Sit him up,” he barked to the EMTs.

“This is Captain America!” Claire hissed while AJ and Tish raised the bed to sit Steve up. “He’s an Alpha!”

“No, he’s an Omega,” Bucky said, “and trust me, he’s not happy about being here.”

Claire just gawked. Bucky snapped his fingers at her.

“IV!” he barked.

Claire shook herself and rushed out. Bucky pumped hand sanitizer into his palms, shoved the sleeves of his sweatshirt out of the way and snapped on gloves before grabbing a pack of baby wipes; he ripped one out and started cleaning Steve up, starting with his sweating brow.

“How you feelin’?” Bucky asked.

“Wanna go home,” Steve mumbled.

“No can-do, buddy,” Bucky answered him. “I’m gonna take your temperature in a minute, it’s gonna be uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned vaguely at him; they’d already gotten him into a hospital gown, so Bucky just had to flip up the blanket covering him. Bucky grabbed a rectal thermometer, punched a new cover on it, and moved the blanket.

“Knees up,” he told Steve. “Relax.”

Steve only blinked in his direction. Bucky pushed his knees up for him.

“This is gonna be cold and uncomfy,” Bucky warned him.

“Don’t,” Steve started to say.

Bucky gently inserted the thermometer. Steve hissed and tried to struggle away, but Bucky grabbed his hip and held him still.

“Just relax,” he told him, “it’s only for a second –”

The thermometer beeped. Bucky pulled it out and let go and Steve snapped his knees closed, twisting away from Bucky on the bed. 

“Alice!” Bucky called, grabbing Steve’s shoulders to pin him down. “Where are you with the straps?”

Alice ran in with disposable restraints sealed in sterile packages. Bucky threw the needle cover away and dropped the thermometer onto a table, then helped Alice get the straps in place. Steve was fighting weakly, but they strapped down his wrists and ankles. Steve still fought against them.

Claire came in with the readied IV. Bucky directed Alice on one side as he held Steve down on the other and Claire inserted an IV into his forearm; not his elbow, he was fighting to get up too much.

“It’s just fluids, buddy,” Bucky promised Steve, “just saline to keep you hydrated.”

Claire shot him a look but said nothing. Steve was panting under the oxygen mask.

“Get a heart monitor set up,” Bucky told Alice.

Suddenly an alarm started ringing. Claire, the nearest to the door, ran out and shouted at someone: “You can’t be in here!” 

Bucky ran out, too, but a petite redhead shoved past him and forced her way into the room.

“You can’t be in here!” Claire just repeated.

“Just shut up!” the redhead snapped. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Ma’am, you’re not allowed in here,” Bucky tried to say.

“I’m his emergency contact!” the woman snapped. “What’s wrong with him?”

“You’re the Black Widow!” Alice blurted out.

“Yeah,” the woman retorted. “For the third fucking time –”

“He’s heat-sick,” Bucky interrupted her. “We can’t tell you any more than that.”

Black Widow glared at Bucky. Steve groaned vaguely from the bed.

“How is he _heat-sick?_ ” Black Widow demanded.

“The usual reason,” Bucky said. “You really aren’t allowed back here, no matter what your relationship to the patient –”

The alarms just started ringing again. Bucky, Claire, and the Black Widow ran out of the room as a dozen men in black suits stormed their way into the ward.

“What the hell are you doing!” Claire yelled at them. “You can’t just come in here!”

“My name is Agent Sitwell, I’m with SHIELD,” the man in front said calmly. “We’re here to collect Captain Rogers.”

“The hell you are!” Bucky snapped.

“Agent Romanoff,” Agent Sitwell said to Black Widow, “didn’t expect you to beat us here.”

“I’m calling security,” Claire said.

“Get out of my ward,” Bucky demanded. “Get out now!”

“Sorry, we’re under orders,” Agent Sitwell informed him calmly. “Men, Captain Rogers –”

Bucky jumped in their way and spread his arms and legs to block the doorway to Steve’s room. “This is a hospital and Captain Rogers is my patient,” he snapped. “I don’t care if you’re the fucking President, he’s not going anywhere!”

“Barnes!” 

Dr. Gregory, the head of the ER, came running in, followed already by hospital security. She skidded to a stop, panting, next to the gathered SHIELD agents, and held a hand out to Bucky.

“They have clearance,” she said, “they’ve got to take him –”

“I don’t care about their fucking clearance,” Bucky snapped back, “Steve’s not going anywhere!”

“Captain Rogers is contractually the responsibility of SHIELD and the Department of Defense,” Agent Sitwell said, “we are permitted to confiscate him from any medical ward –”

“Confiscate?” Bucky repeated. “Confiscate! He’s a fucking human being, not a robot!”

“Barnes, just let them take him,” Dr. Gregory insisted.

“Hell fucking no!” Bucky snarled.

“Alpha,” Steve’s weak voice whimpered behind him.

Bucky jerked around; Steve strained against the restraints to reach in his direction and Bucky ran over in two steps, grabbing his hand and flipping it to take his pulse. Steve flapped his hand around and instead grabbed Bucky’s wrist, swiping his fingers until they hit bare skin; his scent gland. Bucky sucked in a breath.

Another set of alarms started ringing. Bucky yanked his hand away from Steve, backing the fuck off, and Alice looked around wildly while Steve whimpered and tried to reach for Bucky again.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed under his breath, pressing a hand over his own rapidly beating heart. “Oh, shit.”

Claire shoved her way into the room, gaping at Bucky again. Dr. Gregory followed her, looking at him in the same manner.

“What the hell is _that_ alarm for?” Alice demanded.

“Rutting Alpha,” Claire said dumbly.

“Alpha,” Steve whined again. “Alpha, I‘m sorry, please –”

The SHIELD agents forced their way in. Two men released the brakes on Steve’s bed and another grabbed his IV stand. Bucky felt a snarl of rage trying to push its way out of his throat as Steve keened and whimpered for him. Bucky swallowed though his mouth was dry and he shoved past Claire and Dr. Gregory to get out. The security guards, though clearly baffled, moved towards him.

“I’m going,” Bucky snapped, jerking away from them, “don’t touch me!”

“He’s only on saline,” Bucky heard Claire saying to the SHIELD agents. “The mask is giving him oxygen and a sedative; it’s not putting him to sleep, though.”

“We can tell,” Agent Sitwell answered. “He’ll be in good hands with us.”

Bucky burst out of the ward and started down the long hallway towards the employee locker rooms. He felt the rut growing stronger even though he’d left Steve’s side already. He was full of an uncontrollable rage and could only hope no one got in his way.

He got to the locker room. Bucky promptly let out a yell of anger and slammed a fist into the nearest locker. His knuckles split and he spun on his heel to drop onto a bench. He grabbed his hair, panting.

The door opened again. Bucky jerked up and Black Widow entered the room.

“You’re not allowed in here, either,” Bucky snapped.

“Tough shit,” Black Widow said. “Come with me.”

“Where?” Bucky growled. “And why the hell would I go with you?”

“To SHIELD,” Black Widow said simply. “We’re following Steve.”

Bucky almost jumped up and instead grabbed the bench under him to hold himself down. “That’s a bad idea,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It’s a perfect idea,” Black Widow answered calmly. “You know what you’re doing and you spent the last 24 hours taking care of Steve anyway.”

Bucky blinked. “How do you know that?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I listened to the dispatch call,” Black Widow replied. “And if you’re that worried about your rut, I’ll hang around to make sure you keep your pants on.”

Bucky gawked at her. “What –”

“Are you coming or not?” Black Widow asked him sharply.

Bucky gripped the bench under him tightly, then shoved up.

“Yeah,” he said, fully aware of what a terrible idea this was and that this was likely to get him fired let alone kicked out of the Heat Ward. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

*

Steve didn’t understand what was happening. People were shouting and he could smell more Alphas’ rutting than he could count. He couldn’t move, something was keeping him in place. Something forced his mouth open and was going down his throat and he didn’t like it, he kept trying to pull away from it, but he couldn’t move his head. He assumed it was someone’s dick. It was always someone’s dick.

“– what I wanna know is how the hell nobody thought to let me know Captain America’s been an Omega this whole time!”

“You think I don’t wanna figure that out myself?”

“Are you going to get these men out of here, Director, because this is completely inappropriate!”

“Yeah, that’s a good point, what the hell are they even doing here?!”

“This is a matter of national security –”

“That Omega is in heat and you’ve got a dozen Alphas breathing down his neck!”

Steve couldn’t move. He was in pain and his throat felt so raw every breath he took burned. He tried to whine, to beg whoever was holding him down to let him go; he just wanted to go home, he could sweat this out on his own, no one needed to hurt him.

“Who’s gonna take care of him?”

“We’re giving him morphine, he’s fine.”

“He’s not fine, he needs an Alpha!”

“Get out of here. I don’t want any more fucking Alphas coming in my medical ward!”

“He needs an Alpha!”

“Agent, back off!”

Steve just wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be taken care of, not by any of these Alphas. He didn’t want any of this. He didn’t feel safe here, he didn’t feel protected, he was exposed and vulnerable. He wanted to go back home.

“Fuck your protocols –”

“Director, so help me God –”

“This is a matter of national security –”

“Get out!”

Steve only wanted to be home. 

*

Bucky was on the edge of his seat from the second he got into the Black Widow’s car. At least she was clearly on scent blockers, because the car only smelled like the Pine Tree air freshener on the mirror. He gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into his knees. 

“SHIELD took him to the Helicarrier,” Black Widow told him. “It’s docked over Fort Hamilton right now.”

“I really don’t care where they took him,” Bucky muttered, “only that I get there.”

“Ten minutes,” Black Widow said.

She was speeding the whole time. Bucky did not fucking care.

They zipped through security at Fort Hamilton and went straight for the shipyard. Black Widow parked her car and Bucky barely restrained himself from running out. 

“With me,” she told him as she got out.

Bucky kept his head down and just followed her. Nobody questioned either of them, but as they boarded the Helicarrier, Bucky saw that it was probably because the whole place was in an uproar. No one stopped him or the Black Widow as they headed below deck and the uproar only got worse the farther in they got.

Black Widow scanned her palmprint at a medbay and the door slid open. She walked right in and Bucky was immediately accosted by shouting and the smell of burnt cookies overpowered by at least a dozen rut scents.

“Oh, not another one!” a woman in a lab coat yelled. “Agent Romanoff –”

“This is James Barnes,” Black Widow cut her off. “He’s a heat nurse from Brooklyn General, he’s been taking care of Rogers for the past 24 hours.”

“That’s the nurse who tried to stop us from bringing Rogers in,” Agent Sitwell said, making Bucky aware that he was even in the room.

Bucky made a beeline for Steve, who was strapped down from the head to toe to a bed. He had a tube down his throat and was tossing his head from side to side as best he could with the straps on his forehead and chin holding him down.

“Who put him in all those restraints?” Bucky demanded. “You’re making him panic, get them off!”

“He kept trying to take the feeding tube out!” the lab coat snapped.

“Probably because he doesn’t realize it’s a feeding tube,” Bucky snapped back. “Do you care for heat-sick Omegas often, lady? They think everything shoved in their mouths or cunts is a cock!”

The lab coat widened her eyes. Bucky started removing the feeding tube; they weren’t even giving him anything at the time.

“Did you check his throat before you shoved this in him?” Bucky added sharply. “He’s got bile-burns all down his throat, this is just aggravating them.”

“Why is this civilian here?” someone demanded.

“Because we don’t have any heat nurses on staff,” Black Widow answered.

“He’s rutting, too!”

“He’s a professional,” Black Widow replied coolly.

“Steve,” Bucky said, quiet despite the shouting behind them. “Hey, buddy, it’s your old pal Bucky.”

Steve blinked dazedly. Bucky extracted the feeding tube, which was covered in bloody mucus, and Steve immediately started swallowing compulsively. Bucky looked around for water. Of course, there was none.

“You,” he snapped at a nurse, “get a cup of ice chips; ice, not water!”

The woman blinked at him.

“Now!” Bucky insisted.

She jerked and ran off.

Bucky started taking the restraints off, starting with his head. Steve immediately lifted his head to look around, squinting, but dropped back down with a groan.

“You’re alright, kid,” Bucky told him, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “What’s in his IV?” he asked the room at large.

“Morphine,” the lab coat answered.

“What the hell you givin’ him morphine for?” Bucky demanded, moving to shut off the drip already.

“He’s in pain!”

“His body is trying to flush out heavy drugs, don’t give ‘im more!” Bucky snapped.

“What drugs?” the lab coat countered.

“He was OD’ing on suppressants!” Bucky said, then looked around. Everyone in the room just looked at him. “Did you morons even _look_ at the chart you got from the hospital?”

“They didn’t give us one!” the lab coat insisted.

“We fucking gave you one,” Bucky said, glaring at Sitwell now. “Did you take it?”

“He’s heat-sick,” Sitwell started to say.

“Because he’s been OD’ing on suppressants,” Bucky snapped. “You should’a left ‘im at the hospital!”

“I keep saying that!” the lab coat sighed.

Bucky pointed at her. “Someone with some goddamn sense,” he said. “Get an IV drip of saline, nothing else, we can give him light anesthesia to help him sleep once the morphine’s worn off.”

“But what about –”

Bucky looked the lab coat in the eye. She faltered and backed off.

“That’s what I thought,” Bucky said, and resumed removing the excessive restraints.

“Are you going to have him removed?” someone demanded behind Bucky.

“I think no,” was the answer. “Romanoff, you can stand guard on this room, everyone else is getting out.”

“That man is a civilian!”

“And Rogers should’ve stayed in the civilian hospital, seeing as we are woefully unequipped to handle a heat-sick Omega!”

“We had to contain the incident –”

“Fellas,” Bucky interrupted angrily.

The two arguing men, a black man in an eyepatch and an older white dude in a clearly tailored suit, turned to glare at him instead of each other.

“GTFO,” Bucky said simply. “Pronto.”

“GT –” Armani started.

“Get the fuck out,” Black Widow supplied helpfully.

Eyepatch grabbed Armani’s arm. “Come on,” he said, yanking.

Bucky waved at Agent Sitwell, too. Sitwell glared on his way out. Black Widow walked them out and then secured the door. Bucky released the last set of straps pinning down Steve’s knees, then started checking his bedding.

“Do you have waterproof or absorbent pads?” he asked the lab coat. “And what’s your name?”

“Felicia Hanson, MD,” lab coat said. “Uh, I don’t think we have any –”

“Of course,” Bucky grumbled. “Who the fuck decided to pull ‘im outta the hospital to begin with?”

“Secretary Pierce,” Hanson said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Guy who just left.”

“Armani?” Bucky asked. “What’s his deal?”

“Something about Captain Rogers’ position,” Hanson answered.

“Fucking –” Bucky muttered under his breath. “Where’s the nurse with the ice?”

Black Widow opened the door and the nurse ran back in.

“Sorry,” she panted, “I had to go all the way to the cafeteria –”

Bucky grabbed the plastic cup from her and set it on a table by Steve’s bed. He grabbed gloves, snapped them on, then picked up one piece of ice and held it to Steve’s lips.

“Hey, kid,” he said, voice soft, “you can suck on this, okay?”

Steve blinked, then parted his lips and accepted the ice into his mouth. Bucky chucked a knuckle gently under his chin and checked the machines he was hooked to.

“Saline?” he demanded.

“Nurse –” Hanson started.

“Getting it.”

Bucky took the bag of morphine down; the dose was high enough to knock a horse off its ass and Bucky doubted they started him on anything lower.

“Do you know what he was taking?” Hanson asked.

“Generic scent/heat suppressants, stuff from Walgreens or whatever,” Bucky said. “He was lucid this morning so I let him go, but he just took more suppressants.”

“He has damage to his enamel,” Hanson added, walking up to the other side of Steve’s bed now. “Vomiting?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said shortly.

“And they said he was vomiting blood?”

“It’s just damage to his esophagus from repeated vomiting,” Bucky answered. “I thought it might’a been the suppressants burning through his stomach, but his throat’s just burned up.”

“But what’s causing the vomiting?” Hanson demanded.

“Bulimia, probably,” Bucky said, short again. “Or his stomach gets freaked out when he eats because he’s not eating enough. Are you doing anything helpful?”

“What makes you think he’s bulimic?” Hanson just pressed.

“It's a guess!” Bucky snapped. “Either be helpful or GTFO yourself!”

Hanson backed off. The nurse re-entered, an IV bag in hand, and Bucky grabbed it from her to check its contents before he hooked it up to Steve’s arm.

Steve was blinking around, like he was gaining back some consciousness. Bucky grabbed a flashlight and clicked it on, setting a hand on Steve’s forehead.

“Hey, can you follow the light with your eyes?” he asked.

Steve squinted and just closed his eyes. Bucky carefully lifted his eyelid and shone the light into his eye; his pupils were already constricted but dilated further from the light appropriately.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ fine,” Bucky said. “Super-soldiers run through drugs fast, huh?”

Steve turned his head away and Bucky let him go, putting the flashlight back. He checked Steve’s skin turgor and adjusted the saline to flow a little slower. 

“He just needs to sleep this off,” Bucky said, falling back and taking a breath. “I want him under constant surveillance for the next 72 hours and he’ll need a psych eval and regular check-ups after.”

“Because you think he’s bulimic?” Hanson countered.

“Yeah,” Bucky snapped, “damage to the throat and enamel from frequent vomiting, that’s red flag numero uno of bulimia. Plus he could barely stomach crackers and chicken broth yesterday, he’s been under-eating and over-exercising –”

“How do you know?” Hanson demanded.

“I live above him,” Bucky said simply.

“I’ve already run his background,” Black Widow spoke up, “I like him.”

Hanson glanced between Bucky and Black Widow. She threw up her hands and just left.

“Good riddance,” Bucky muttered, grabbing a chair and dropping into it.

Black Widow walked over, arms crossed over her stomach. She eyed him critically and Bucky ignored her.

“He’s really been doing all that?” she asked.

Bucky stripped off his gloves and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said tiredly. “I thought he was just an insomniac, ‘cause I’d see ‘im out running pretty much 24/7. But he literally doesn’t have anything in his kitchen but protein shakes and bars and he told me he doesn’t even make a thousand calories a day most days.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Bucky sighed. “I’m a heat nurse, not a shrink.”

Black Widow leaned on the end of Steve’s bed and let out a heavy sigh. Bucky leaned back and hooked a foot against the bed.

“Call me Natasha,” Black Widow said suddenly. “I have a feeling we’re gonna end up seeing a lot of each other in the future.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Probably,” he agreed.

*

Steve woke up someplace unfamiliar for the second time. Slowly, he recognized the medical suite. He was at SHIELD, which meant SHIELD knew.

“Morning, Rogers.”

Steve looked sideways and found Natasha seated at his bedside, arms crossed and a sullen glare on her face. He looked in the other direction and spotted his neighbor, wearing a clearly borrowed SHIELD sweatshirt and a couple of pencils through the sloppy bun at the top of his head. Steve felt a pang through his heart that was mostly panic.

“Someone tell me I’m dreamin’,” Steve said hoarsely.

“Nope,” Natasha answered.

Steve let out a groan and shut his eyes.

“So,” Natasha said.

“Leave me alone,” Steve rasped.

“What’s goin’ on with you, kid?” Bucky asked quietly.

Steve bit his cheek to keep himself from answering. He tried to lift a hand; his arm jerked back. He lifted up his head and looked down. His wrists were strapped to the bed.

“There’s an IV in your other arm,” Bucky said, leaning into Steve’s view and he released Steve’s left hand. “Careful.”

Steve went to rip the IV out. Bucky caught his hand and gave him a look.

“It’s just fluids,” he said. “Seriously.”

“I want to go home,” Steve snapped.

“Tough shit,” Natasha returned. “You’re stuck here until you get cleared by a shrink.”

“Why?” Steve demanded.

“Nurse Barnes says you’re anorexic,” Natasha said.

Steve jerked his head around to glare at Bucky. “Fuck you,” he spat.

“Do I have to strap your arm down again?” Bucky asked flatly.

Steve yanked his hand away. “No,” he muttered angrily, dropping his arm to the bed.

“This is an intervention,” Natasha told him. “I’ll be staying with you for a while.”

Steve clenched his jaw and glared up at the ceiling, saying nothing. Bucky offered him a thermometer.

“Open up,” he said.

Steve clenched his jaw harder. Bucky sighed.

“Let me check your temperature, kid,” he asked. “You don’t gotta be so tough.”

“Why?” Steve retorted. “‘Cause now you know I’m not really an Alpha? Fuck you!”

“It’s just your temperature!” Bucky insisted.

“Let the nurse take your temperature,” Natasha snapped.

“I feel fine!” Steve shouted.

Bucky shoved the thermometer into his mouth. Steve tried to spit out but Bucky grabbed his jaw and held him still. Steve jerked his head around, but the thermometer beeped and Bucky released him.

“Hundred point three,” he said, walking away already. “You’ve got some heat still in you.”

“I feel fine,” Steve hissed.

“You’re not fine,” Natasha said, pushing up from her chair and walking up. “And you know what, Rogers?”

“What?” Steve snapped back.

“That’s okay,” Natasha told him in a suddenly gentle voice.

Steve clenched his jaw, glancing away. Natasha picked up his hand.

“How come you never told anyone that you’re actually an Omega?”

“I wasn’t allowed to,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“It’s not the 40s anymore,” Natasha countered. "Nobody knew, Steve. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Steve just clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything else. Natasha gave his hand a squeeze before letting go.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she said frankly. “No matter what your callsign is, Steve Rogers is an Omega and he’s allowed to be.”

Steve cast her a glance, then just shook his head. He wasn’t anything outside of Captain America. It was all he had.

“How’s your head feel?” Bucky asked.

“Like shit,” Steve admitted.

“How ‘bout the rest’a you?”

“Shittier,” Steve muttered.

“You want something to put you to sleep?” Bucky asked, catching his attention.

Steve glanced between Natasha and Bucky. Bucky just raised his eyebrows.

“How much longer do I have to be here?” Steve countered.

“Another 24 hours,” Bucky said. “Gotta make sure you’ve really got everything outta your system.”

Steve jutted out his jaw, grinding his teeth. “Fine,” he said finally.

“I’ll be back with some Valium,” Bucky answered. “Hang tight.”

Steve stared up at the ceiling and tried to glare holes in it. The room was silent, but he could feel Natasha’s eyes on him.

“You still have to talk to a shrink.”

Steve refused to reply.

“Barnes was being serious, you know. You don’t have to act so tough.”

“It’s a dog eat dog world,” Steve muttered.

“I’m a cat person,” Natasha answered without missing a beat.

Steve shot her a look. Natasha just raised her eyebrows.

“We’re friends, right?”

Steve paused, his gaze slipping. He looked back at her. Natasha was leaning forward on her knees, eyebrows drawn tightly together.

“You know I actually give a shit about you?” Natasha asked him. “The team cares about you? Hell, your neighbor clearly gives a damn about you.”

“What’s your point?” Steve snapped.

“We’d miss you if you were dead,” Natasha said bluntly.

Steve looked away again. “I’m not suicidal, Nat.”

“Seems a lot like you are.”

“I’m not!” Steve snapped.

“I’ll believe you when you’re not half-starved to death,” Natasha countered.

Steve clenched his jaw and looked at the opposite wall. Natasha didn’t say anything else and Steve encouraged her silence.

Bucky returned with a glass vial. He prepped a syringe and measured out a dose, then swabbed Steve’s upper arm with an alcohol wipe and wordlessly gave him the injection. Steve shut his eyes as he felt the drug entering his system.

“There you go, punk,” Bucky said softly.

“Fuck off, jerk,” Steve mumbled to keep himself from saying anything worse as he fell asleep. 

*

Bucky had been suspended for a week with half-pay. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting it and it wasn’t like he knew perfectly well that it was fair, but it stung anyway. 

At least he only got suspended. It could’ve been worse.

After Steve slept off his heat-sickness, Bucky went home with rut still low in his blood. Agent Sitwell stopped him on his way out.

“Sign this, please,” he said, pushing a clipboard at Bucky.

Bucky took it and actually read it. Sitwell looked disappointed.

“This is an NDA?” Bucky questioned aloud. “What the hell for?”

“The incident involving Captain Rogers’,” Sitwell told him simply. "We're just looking to protect his reputation."

Bucky shoved the clipboard back at him. “Nice try, asshole,” he snapped.

“Mr. Barnes –”

Bucky left. He got out of there before anyone else could shove legal forms in his face and before he could fuck anyone up. Rut didn’t sit well with him ever, and the fact that he’d rutted at all made him twice as angry with himself.

Once he was home, he took a shower and used up all the hot water getting Steve’s heat-scent off him. He washed anything that Steve had touched and doused his apartment in Febreze. Then he swallowed some sleeping pills and let himself pass out.

He was still so angry for Steve. The whole Captain America deal was fucked up and Bucky wished he could just shake some sense into the kid. At the same time, he was hoping that Steve wouldn’t be coming back to the building. Natasha would take him to her place or another friend would take him in. Help him get his act together someplace else, because Bucky had a problem.

All that night, Bucky dreamt about Steve. It was fucked up. Steve had been someone he’d wanted to take out for a burger and encourage some healthier behaviors in before. He’d just been a kid that Bucky saw his younger self in and wanted to lend a hand to. When Bucky had thought Steve was an Alpha, he hadn’t wanted him. Now Steve was an Omega, one who obeyed and seemed so needy for structure or praise, and Bucky was dreaming about kissing him.

*

Steve woke up to an unfamiliar SHIELD doctor checking his lungs. She gave him a smile and lifted her stethoscope from his chest and Steve pulled his gown up.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Your fever’s broken,” she told him. “You’ve been clear of the heat for about 30 hours now.”

“Can I go home?” Steve asked.

“We’d like you to speak with a psychologist.”

“Whatever,” Steve answered.

She left him alone. A nurse came in and put a tray on the bed in front of him; a bowl of soup, a sandwich, an apple, and a glass of water. Steve just looked at it.

“I’ll take your IV out,” the nurse said, “then you can eat.”

Steve held still while she removed the needle in his arm. He didn’t move while she took the IV stand out. When he was left alone, he pushed the tray back. He took the water, though.

*

Bucky woke up before dawn. He ended up just sitting up in bed and staring at nothing. He still felt tired and wished he could go back to sleep.

He got up. Put on shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes. Grabbed his keys, left his phone, and went out. 

He ended up in Prospect Park by dawn. As the sun rose, Bucky sank onto a bench and held his head in his hands.

Steve was still stuck in his head. He was fucked up.

*

“How would you describe your diet, Captain Rogers?”

Steve stared at the wall and didn’t answer.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

Steve stared at the wall.

“We understand that you have acidic damage to your esophagus and mouth. Could you explain why you’ve been vomiting so much?”

Steve stared blankly at the wall.

“Do you feel the urge to harm yourself or others?”

“No,” Steve answered for once.

The shrink looked surprised and happy. Steve only answered that one because he wanted it clear that he wasn’t a danger to anyone.

“What do you plan to do now that you’re unable to take suppressants?”

Steve resumed his silence. The shrink sighed.

“Are you planning on contacting any media or news corporation to discuss your designation, as an Omega or otherwise?”

Steve turned his head to look coldly at the shrink. The shrink didn’t appear apologetic. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. SHIELD was just the SSR, rebranded for the future and given a new name. All the fancy 21st-century feminism had clearly done shit for the military.

“No,” Steve said flatly.

The shrink made a note on his clipboard. He clicked his pen.

“I think you’re fine to go home,” he said.

Steve got up from his chair and walked out. No one stopped him. Steve walked all the way home. People looked at his profile, then caught his scent and looked away. No one stopped him.


	6. Let it out small

#  _6: Let it out small_

Steve didn’t have keys, but he didn’t ring the buzzer. He checked the left side of the steps for the false brick and found the spare key; third in from the house and eight up from the ground. Steve let himself in using it, put it back and flipped the lock behind him. He took the spare key from the supply closet and unlocked his apartment, pocketing the key after. He flipped on the light. The couch was still shoved off to the side by his front door. 

Steve just stared at the couch. Numbly. Then he drew his foot back and kicked it savagely; the fabric siding tore and his foot went through part of the frame; the wood splintered and cracked with a loud _snap!_

“What did the couch do to you?”

Steve whipped around and froze at the sight of Natasha sitting at the dining table; wearing a tracksuit with just a sports bra under the unzipped jacket, her hair tied into a bun at the top of her head and her feet bare. She raised her eyebrows, as if to say _‘Sup?_

“What the fuck are you doing?” Steve demanded.

“I told you I was going to crash your place,” Natasha answered.

“I never said you could,” Steve insisted.

“I never said I was asking,” Natasha replied, eyebrows lifting higher. “I stocked your kitchen.”

Steve glanced at it, then fixed Natasha with a hard glare. She didn’t say a word. Steve slammed the door shut behind him, locked it, and just strode past Natasha without another word into his bedroom.

The mattress was back on the frame and his overturned dresser had been righted and the clothes put away. Natasha had made his bed. Steve glared at it for a while. Then he opened the window, lifted the screen, and climbed out.

*

Bucky never obsessed over his weight or what he looked like, but he understood vices.

Sam would be disappointed. So would Becca. His ma would just be pissed, God rest her soul.

“‘Nother round?” Vicky asked.

“Make it a double,” Bucky muttered back.

Vicky filled his glass. Bucky turned over his Five Years coin as he swallowed another gulp of whiskey. He was buzzed enough that it was pretty funny; he’d gotten that coin only a few months ago.

“Hey, pal,” a stranger greeted him. “Can I rant at you?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, calmly closing his fist over his abandoned sobriety.

“Are Omegas insane?” the stranger asked.

“Depends on the Omega,” Bucky replied honestly.

The stranger pointed the neck of his beer at Bucky. “My Omega’s insane.”

“What’d she do?” Bucky asked, shifting on his stool to look his new pal square in the face.

“I wanted t’a go drinkin’ with my buddies, right?” the stranger started. “It’s a Friday night, I just got paid, I wanted a fun night out!”

“Did your girl tell you you couldn’t go?” Bucky asked.

“She did!” the stranger said, throwing his hands up and sloshing his beer. “She said! I fuckin’ _quote!_ I always go out with my pals and I don’ spend no time with ‘er anymore!”

“Do you spend time with ‘er?” Bucky asked dumbly.

The stranger thought about it. “Yeah!” he said. “We had a staycation last weekend!”

“So maybe she wanted another staycation,” Bucky suggested.

“Listen!” the stranger insisted. “So I tells ‘er, we’ll go to a movie Sunday. Spend the day shoppin’ or whatever. An’ she yells in my face that she don’t wanna go out, she wants me t’a stay home!”

“Well, obviously you didn’t stay home,” Bucky answered.

“Nah,” the stranger scoffed. “Here’s the thing, she screams in my face that if I go out I’m a worthless bastard an’ I don’t love ‘er an’ some shit and she – Look!”

He yanks his sleeve up and shows a large bandage on his arm. “She fuckin’ knifed me!”

Bucky whistled. “She’s pretty crazy, man.”

“‘S what I said!” the stranger answered. “Thank you!”

He pushed off his stool, drained his beer, and started staggering away. Bucky turned around.

“Where you goin’?” he called. “Don’t I get a turn?”

The stranger waved a hand. “I’mma go apologize,” he said. “Don’t wan’ ‘er t’a lock me out.”

Bucky raised a hand. The guy left the bar, stumbling in the street. Bucky turned around and, catching Vicky’s eye, jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“Dude’s crazy, right?”

“Hella,” Vicky answered calmly. “What’chu got t’a rant about?”

Bucky snorted and ducked his head. “Trust me, it’s crazier.”

“Try me.”

Bucky shook his head. Then sat back and thought about it.

“I got this neighbor,” he started. “Le’s call ‘im…” He dragged it out, screwing up his face as he thought. “Joe,” he decided eventually.

Vicky laughed. “Took you a long time t’a come up with Joe?”

Bucky shushed her. “I got this buddy, Joe,” he started over. “His name’s not really Joe,” he added, shaking his head.

“I figured,” Vicky answered.

“Anyway,” Bucky said. “He lives under me. In the military. He’s, like, the kinda ripped that’ll make you feel bad about your workout routine.”

“Sweetie, do it look like I work out?” Vicky laughed, gesturing to her heavy bosom and thick hips.

“Nah,” Bucky snorted, “tha’s how I like ‘em anyway.”

Vicky fluttered her lashes and Bucky winked, lifting his whiskey again. Vicky snorted and leaned against the bar.

“So, what’s Joe’s problem?” 

Bucky drained his glass. Vicky refilled it.

“He’s in the military,” Bucky started again. “Saw combat. Prolly some nasty shit. We live in a two-story, only got him ‘n’ me in it, so, yannow, I can tell his comin’ an’ goin’? And he’s always goin’.”

“Women?” Vicky asked sagely.

“Running,” Bucky corrected. “Never seen ‘im with a girl. Or a guy. Here’s the thing –”

He leaned forward and held a hand up, looking Vicky in the eye.

“I thought, kid’s got shellshock,” he said. “But the other day, I get home, his place smells like heat.”

Vicky raised her eyebrows sharply. Bucky makes a _Wait for it_ gesture.

“I’m a heat nurse, so I go in, right?” he told her. “Smelled like the Omega was in trouble, I thought I was gonna hafta call the cops or some shit. I get in there, and i’s jus’ St– Joe,” he hastily corrected himself. 

“Okay?” Vicky questioned, frowning.

“You assumed Joe was an Alpha, right?” Bucky asked. “I did, too!”

Vicky gasped. “But he’s an Omega!”

“He’s an Omega!” Bucky confirmed. “I get in there an’ he’s messed up, sick, been throwin’ up – The works.”

“So, you took ‘im to the hospital?” Vicky pressed. “What was wrong with him?”

“He’d been overdosing on suppressants,” Bucky said. “And he hadn’t been eating right. Found at the hospital that he had –” Bucky gestured vaguely to his throat. “Burns, from vomiting a lot?”

“Oh, honey,” Vicky sighed.

“Yeah,” Bucky echoed the sentiment. “But – But here’s the problem.”

Vicky frowned again. Bucky gulped down his whiskey, draining the glass, and slammed it back down.

“I’m a heat nurse,” he repeated. “I don’t rut jus’ from smellin’ heat. Never have. But Joe? Joe put me in rut.”

“Uh-oh,” Vicky said.

“Gets worse,” Bucky promised her. “I went home and dreamed about ‘im. Now I know he’s an Omega, now I want ‘im.”

“Uh-oh,” Vicky repeated, pushing off the bar with a grimace.

Bucky nodded sadly. “Now ‘m here drinkin’ my feelin’s away,” he said.

“Boy, you better communicate,” Vicky told him.

Bucky held out his glass. Vicky filled it again.

“What I need,” he said, raising it to his lips, “is a fuckin’ re-do.”

*

Steve walked with his hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground – _Chin up, eyes down, and mind your posture, boy, do I keep you around to slouch like an ungrateful gutter rat?_ – and his head down.

_Tsk, tsk._

He wasn’t wearing a hood or sunglasses, but without scent blockers, it was obvious that he was an Omega. Nobody even looked at him now. It was stupid how obvious it was that he didn’t even matter now that his scent was natural and clear.

The sun was setting, washing New York in a golden glow that bounced off cars and lampposts. The longer he walked, the louder the city got. The night started and the city seemed to wake up.

Steve wound up in Prospect park as the sun was dropping below the horizon. He sank onto a bench and dropped his head low to grab his hair, yanking on it. 

He felt weak. He was weak. It was stupid, the whole thing.

Someone dropped onto the bench next to him. Steve jerked up, looking to his left, and Natasha raised an eyebrow. 

“How’d you find me?” Steve demanded.

Natasha blew a large, pink bubble. It popped and she drew the gum back into her mouth, eyebrow still raised. She didn’t answer.

Steve rolled his eyes. He got up and started walking, shoving his hands into his pockets. He heard footsteps and Natasha fell into stride beside him; her track jacket was still unzipped and her bra was still on display. Steve thought she looked like a whore.

“Why are you following me?” he snapped.

Natasha just raised her eyebrows. Steve glared at her and walked faster. She matched his pace. Steve broke into a run. Natasha followed him. Steve started to sprint, but not even a few minutes in, his muscles failed him and he had to stop. Natasha slowed and stopped right next to him. Steve grabbed his knees and leaned over, catching his breath.

“They gave you intravenous nutrition while you were out of it,” Natasha finally spoke. “But, as my sources tell me, you didn’t eat much of the food they brought you once you woke up.”

Steve gritted his teeth and straightened up. “So fucking what?” he hissed.

Natasha blew a bubble. “Low blood sugar,” she said calmly.

“I’m used to it,” Steve grumbled and started walking again.

Natasha only matched his pace. Steve’s legs were trembling and the mere thought of running made him feel dizzy.

“SHIELD weighed you,” Natasha said. “They also measured your body fat percentage.”

“Please stop talking,” Steve growled.

“You’re rockin’ a whole three percent,” Natasha continued anyway. “Wanna know something cool?”

“No,” Steve snapped.

“That’s ten percent less than what your body needs to keep itself from consuming your muscle tissue.”

Steve lengthened his stride. Natasha kept up easily.

“I know the shrink cleared you for duty after talking to you for only five minutes,” Natasha told him. “But being clear for duty is not the same as being healthy.”

Steve made a sharp right turn. Natasha only followed him.

“Clint gave me the key to your apartment,” she said. “He’s on assignment right now, but he’s going to see you as soon as he gets back.”

“How many people have you told?” Steve demanded.

“Just Clint,” Natasha answered. 

Steve looked away, jaw tightening. At least Stark didn’t know.

“SHIELD tied up everyone at the hospital with NDAs,” Natasha added. “They couldn’t get Barnes to sign, but I really doubt that will matter. He doesn’t have any social media profiles and he doesn’t have much of a social life.”

“He works a lot,” Steve muttered, looking at the ground.

“He does,” Natasha agreed. “He’s a good person, though.”

Steve glared at the ground. He didn’t want to accept Barnes as a good person right then.

“I’m really glad that he took you to the hospital,” Natasha said quietly.

Steve glanced up at her, then back at the ground and clenched his jaw.

“I know you’re not,” Natasha added. “I know you’re angry about it.”

Steve scoffed and jerked his head up. “Understatement.”

“I get it,” Natasha insisted.

Steve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to look at her. Natasha met his gaze frankly.

“It sucks,” she just said.

“I’m fine,” Steve told her.

“You’re not,” Natasha told him. “You really aren’t, but I’m not going to let you spiral anymore.”

Steve shook his head and started walking again. Natasha just followed him

*

“Alright, buddy,” Vicky sighed as she filled his glass, “this is the last one, okay?”

“Prolly a good thin’,” Bucky mumbled, pulling the whiskey towards him. “How much I owe you?”

“Thirty-seven,” Vicky told him. “You were drinkin’ the cheap stuff.”

Bucky raised a hand and gave her a slow thumbs up. At least he didn’t blow the bank on this spiral. He leaned on a hip and pulled out his wallet, then fished out a card and handed it over.

“Sweetie, this is your library card,” Vicky said.

Bucky grimaced and took it back. He examined his wallet, then took out something he was pretty sure was a credit card and held it up.

“That one’ll go,” Vicky chuckled, taking it.

Bucky drank down his last drink as Vicky charged his tab. He took his card back, pushed it into his wallet, and tugged out a ten to drop onto the counter. 

“Thanks, babe,” he said, standing up and returning his wallet to his pocket. “Next time you see me, do a pal a favor ‘n’ kick me out?”

“You got it, doll,” Vicky answered him with a salute.

Bucky left his Five Year coin on the bar, knowing fully he’d never see it again. As he left, he saw Vicky pick it up and sigh heavily.

*

“Why’re you not offerin’ t’a buy me somethin’ from every food cart we pass?” Steve asked.

“‘Cause you’d probably just throw it back up,” Natasha answered calmly. “You have to start small, Rogers.”

Steve just shook his head.

“I got Matzo ball soup back at your place,” Natasha added. “Small start.”

Steve sighed. He liked Matzo ball soup.

“You ready to head home?” she asked.

Steve looked up at the sky and checked his watch; it was almost four in the morning.

“Fine,” he said. 

“Left here,” Natasha replied.

*

Bucky figured he should call someone and let them know he’d fucked up. Probably Sam. Sam was the least likely to blow up at him for throwing away five years of sobriety. As he resolved himself to make the call, he realized he didn’t have his phone. Which was fucking convenient.

“How’re ya doin’, sugar?” a street hooker purred as he passed.

“Doin’ too broke, doll,” Bucky answered with a lazy salute. 

“I got a military discount,” she answered with a grin.

Bucky snorted. “How much?”

“Forty-five to own me for an hour,” she offered. “Happy ending guaranteed.”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “Sorry, honey, but I ain’t got a happy endin’ in store for me.”

“Your loss, sweetie,” she said with a shrug.

Bucky saluted one more time and kept walking.

*

Steve still didn’t have a key to the building, but Natasha did. She pulled a massive ring of keys out of her track bottoms and jogged up the steps to shift through them. Steve leaned against the handrail and looked at the ground while she sorted through them.

“Hey.”

Steve glanced up. Bucky slowed to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

“You’re drunk,” Steve noted.

Bucky grinned, tipping his head back. “Very,” he agreed.

Natasha unlocked the door and opened it. “Call your sponsor,” she said flatly and went in.

Bucky’s smile snapped into a frown. Steve glanced towards Natasha, then gave Bucky a single look before pushing off the railing and going inside.

“What did you mean?” he asked Natasha.

Natasha unlocked his apartment and waited for him to go in. Steve passed her, glancing outside one more time. Bucky was still outside. 

Steve shut and locked his door behind him. Natasha dropped her massive ring of keys onto his kitchen counter.

“Never mind,” Natasha said. “It’s none of our business.”

Steve looked at her for a moment, then walked past and shut himself in his bedroom. He grabbed his phone and Googled what she’d said.

_12 Questions About the 12-Steps: What is a Sponsor?_ , Google provided, from American Addiction Centers dot com.

Steve regretted looking it up. He dropped his phone and pulled the blinds down over his window, then changed into pajamas. He collapsed into bed and just stared at the opposite wall as light began to fill up his room through the blinds.

*

Bucky woke up in his bed with an awful hangover. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in a pillow that smelled like his own sweat.

“Good, you’re awake.”

“‘M not awake,” Bucky mumbled.

Sam flopped onto the bed next to Bucky, eyebrows high on his forehead. Bucky groaned and rolled over in the other direction.

“I have two things to say to you,” Sam announced. “One, I’m proud of you for calling me after just one night of drinking. Two, you’re going to meetings every week now.”

Bucky lifted a thumb and stuck it up.

“Third thing,” Sam added. “You didn’t mention that your downstairs neighbor was Captain America.”

“Leave ‘im alone,” Bucky grumbled. “Hard time. Lot of a mess.”

“Like you ain’t a whole ass garbage truck.”

Bucky started laughing. It hurt his head. His laughter turned into ugly crying.

Sam crawled over and spooned him from the back. “Let it out,” he encouraged quietly.

Bucky let it out.


	7. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i'm so happy y'all are getting everything out of this that i put in it, you have no idea_

#  _7: Baby Steps_

  


When Steve woke up, it was dark. He pushed up and looked around, but his apartment was quiet. He tossed his blankets aside and got out of bed. Opened his door and slipped out.

Natasha was lying on a sofa, fast asleep and wrapped in a blanket. It wasn’t even Steve’s couch, he didn’t recognize it. His couch wasn’t in the apartment at all, and when he looked out the window facing the street, he saw it on the curb, the broken frame sticking out.

The TV was on but muted, captions running across the screen in Spanish. Steve paused behind the new couch and watched a woman sobbing silently by a toilet with a pregnancy test in hand. He picked up the remote from the arm of the couch and turned the TV off.

Natasha didn’t wake up. Steve put the remote back and walked around the couch to enter the kitchen. The clock on the oven said it was past three in the morning. Steve wondered if he’d really slept for almost 24 hours. The clock on the cable box said past three, too. Natasha’s watch read past three. Steve sat down on a stool by the breakfast bar and looked around the dark apartment. He’d slept for nearly 24 hours.

He was hungry but that wasn’t anything new. Steve lifted off the stool and opened his fridge. It was fully stocked. Large containers of Matzo ball soup took up space on the top shelf, other containers of soups filling up the shelves beneath it; tomato, chicken noodle, a dark broth with small dumplings. That was new.

Natasha was fast asleep. Steve went looking for a protein shake. He dug around in the fridge, but couldn’t find any. He jerked around and glared at Natasha’s sleeping form, then sighed and let his shoulders deflate.

He pulled out the Matzo ball soup. He opened the container and gave it a sniff. He grabbed a bowl, poured out some broth and used a spoon to drop one Matzo ball out. It deserved better than the microwave, but Steve was too tired to heat it up on the stove.

The microwave beeped as it started. Steve glanced over at the living room, but Natasha didn’t wake up. Steve sat down at the breakfast bar and let his arms rest on the counter. He stared at the pale wood surface, just stared at it.

He wondered if there were still suppressants in his bathroom. Probably not. If Natasha had replaced all of his protein shakes with real food, she’d probably found every suppressant pill in his apartment and flushed it. That’s what he would’ve done.

The microwave beeped again and shut off. Steve pushed up and took the bowl out, picking up the spoon again. He sat back at the table and stirred the soup for a long moment before raising a spoonful to his lips. He blew on the broth, then popped it into his mouth and swallowed.

Steve wasn’t Jewish, but his mother’s landlady had been. Mrs. Kempinski had watched him often while his ma worked, mostly when he’d been too young to keep an eye on himself. She’d often fed him as well, later refusing his ma’s attempt to compensate her for whatever he’d eaten. Matzo ball soup had been his favorite when he was six years old.

Steve let his spoon clink against the bowl. That was 90 and 20 years ago at the same time. A year ago he’d been fighting a war, but really it was 70 years ago. He was 26 but if you counted all the years in between, he was 93. His ma had only been dead for him for 2 months and 7 years and he’d lost his virginity to a man he won’t ever know the name of 72 years ago. In today’s dollars, he’d gotten almost two hundred for it. A male Omega slave had been sold like livestock at black auction in Singapore for two million a few weeks ago; police still hadn’t tracked down the buyer. He had mentioned it to Fury and Fury had just sighed and said SHIELD didn’t have a human trafficking department.

Steve finished the bowl. Then he filled it again and heated another serving. He ate four bowls and five Matzo balls. Each tasted just like how he remembered Mrs. Kempinski making it.

He left the empty containers and his dishes in the sink. He put on sweats and running shoes and went out his bedroom window. Natasha was still asleep. Steve jogged for a block, then began to run.

*

Bucky’s hangover lasted an entire day. Sam held his hair when he threw up and heated up the leftover chicken noodle soup Bucky had made for Steve. He didn’t tell Bucky that he was fucked up or was a fuck-up for drinking, just fed him electrolytes and hot soup.

“So, what’re you gonna do about Steve?” Sam asked.

Bucky just shrugged. “Either avoid the hell outta ‘im or apologize for being a fuck up.”

“You fuck _ed_ up,” Sam said firmly, “you are not _a_ fuck up.”

Bucky waved a hand. He knew the difference.

“He’s got a friend with him,” he said. “Better to leave ‘im alone.”

“Dude,” Sam replied seriously. “What’re _you_ going to do about what _he_ does to _you?_ ”

“Hope it goes away?” Bucky suggested.

Sam looked at him flatly. Bucky sighed.

“Lemme figure out if I’m getting kicked off the Heat Ward,” he said. “Then I can check my feelings at baggage claim.”

“You should try journaling,” Sam told him. “You’d be a good writer.”

Bucky just shrugged and slipped sideways until his head was in Sam’s lap. Sam started petting his hair.

“You’ll make it through this, pal,” Sam told him gently.

“Gonna feel like shit for a while,” Bucky muttered back, “but yeah.”

“‘S how it works,” Sam replied honestly, but not unkindly. Bucky liked that about him.

*

Natasha was awake when Steve came back through the window. She was sitting on his bed; she’d made it for him.

“You’re gonna put your ass on the couch and we’re gonna watch B-rated movies,” she said instead of greeting him.

Steve was tired. He didn’t even know what B-rated meant. Natasha gave him an order and he couldn’t muster up the willpower to intentionally disobey.

“May I sleep first?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Natasha answered, suddenly gentle. “But I’m staying in here with you to make sure you don’t vanish again.”

Steve shut the window behind him. “You could’a just tracked me down,” he pointed out.

“I saw the dishes in the sink.”

Steve tugged off his shoes. “So what?”

“Baby steps, Rogers,” Natasha said. “Go shower.”

Steve grabbed his bathrobe and did what he was told. It was easier than pretending he didn’t feel filthy.

Natasha was still in his room when he got out an hour later; she was lying back, on top of his covers and reading on a tablet. Steve grabbed pajamas and clean underwear, then went back to the bathroom to change. Natasha didn’t comment on it. Steve didn’t say anything about it.

“One container had about four hundred calories in it,” Natasha said out of nowhere. “Your new diet requires you get at least five thousand in a day.”

“Great,” Steve muttered through clenched teeth.

Natasha put her tablet down and just looked at him. “We’ll start at three thousand,” she told him, tone surprisingly gentle. “Go from there.”

Steve worked his jaw side to side. “Are you going to stay there?”

“Yep,” Natasha said, lifting her tablet again. “It’s me or Clint, Rogers.”

Steve exhaled sharply through his nose, like a bull ready to charge. He threw back the covers and got into bed, then put his back to Natasha and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

“If you ever wanna talk,” Natasha said quietly, “I’m here. I know I’m not really emotionally available, but I care about you.”

Steve didn’t answer her. He just wanted to sleep.

*

Bucky did not want to go to a meeting. He did not want to admit that he’d fucked up _five_ fucking _years._ Sam looked at him sternly until he sighed and put on his shoes.

Bucky never worked Tuesdays so he knew he’d always be able to make AA in the evenings. Normally, he went just once a month; he’d been doing so well, Sam and his therapist agreed that yeah, once a month was good for him. Well. He was back to every week, now.

“Hey,” Bucky said when it was his turn. “I’m Bucky.”

He waved a little. The group greeted him in return. Sam nodded encouragingly.

“I got my Five Years coin a few months ago,” Bucky continued. He dropped his gaze, jaw tightening. “Last week, a lotta shit happened in a few days. I got low. Left my chip at a bar after I binged about fifty bucks’a cheap whiskey.”

No one said anything; he wasn’t finished, unfortunately.

“The, uh, the thing that tripped me up,” Bucky added, “yannow how it goes. Was an Omega. I messed up. He – The Omega, I made them go to a hospital when they didn’t want to and I think maybe I ruined their life?”

He shrugged.

“I saved their life, that’s what matters to me,” he said. “But at the same time, I went too far – They were heat-sick,” he told the group, to give them the context that _really_ lead to how badly he’d fucked up. “They were heat-sick and I rutted. I should’a left ‘im alone, but I stuck around longer than I should’ve. So, I’ve messed up stuff between us and – and I haven’t actually talked to ‘im since then. It’s kinda a bad deal, ‘cause I can’t apologize for making them go to the hospital, but I have to apologize for the other thing. And I know they’re gonna be more angry about going to the hospital in the first place than anything else.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat and gave his hand a hopeless wave, dropping it onto his thigh.

“So, yeah,” he said. “I’m on five days now instead’a five years.”

“Five days is just as important,” Sam reminded him gently.

Bucky nodded once. “Thanks, guys,” he muttered. He didn’t have anything left to say.

*

Natasha fixed the thermostat. Steve admitted that he was always cold, and she just looked him in the eye.

“Your body doesn’t have enough reserves to keep itself warm,” she told him gently.

Steve did what he did best. Pulled a blanket over his head and refused to answer her.

The thermostat had been set to 62. Natasha turned it up to 72. 10 degrees made a big difference, and all the thick hoodies and socks Steve had been wearing around the apartment became unnecessary. He was still cold, but at least the environment around him didn’t make it worse.

A few days after he’d gotten home, Steve was anxious for a mission to take his mind off what had happened. He was constantly checking his phone, expecting an alert from SHIELD, from the Strike Team, fucking anything, but after a _week,_ he’d had nothing.

Then Natasha got called in.

“How come they’re not bringing me in?” Steve demanded as she grabbed her stuff to go.

“You’re not active right now,” Natasha answered shortly.

Steve sat upright, outraged. “Why the hell not!”

Natasha stopped what she was doing and just looked at him. “You’re on medical leave,” she said flatly. “You were just in the hospital for three days, Rogers.”

“I’m fine!” Steve insisted.

Natasha looked like she wanted to argue with him, but then she sighed and shook her head, looking away. She swung her bag onto her shoulder and grabbed her massive ring of keys.

“It’s policy to give a week of downtime for every 24 hours hospitalized,” she said. “You’ve got two weeks left.”

“I didn’t want any downtime,” Steve started.

“It’s required for everyone,” Natasha interrupted him. “Clint’s gonna swing by later.”

With that, she left. Steve collapsed onto the sofa and stared at the ground. He’d never wanted any downtime. 

He lay there for a while. The TV was on and muted, and the lights flashing across his face dazed him. He was couldn’t sit still. He’d always had trouble sitting still.

He got up. He kicked aside an ottoman and went into the bathroom. Natasha had thrown out all of his suppressants, but that wasn’t what Steve wanted right then.

He pulled the digital scale out from under the towel rack. Switched it on and stepped onto it. The display flashed as it thought.

_194.7._

Steve stepped down. Kicked the scale back under the rack, turned the light out and walked out. 

For a second, he stood in the middle of the room, looking at nothing, indecisive. Then he grabbed his shoes, laced them up, and put a track jacket on over his tank top. He grabbed keys and pulled open the door.

“Hey!”

Steve froze guiltily, faced with Clint and Bucky standing in the hallway; they’d been talking, but stopped when he walked out.

Bucky didn’t look at Steve. Steve didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“I was about to call you,” Clint said, “the spare key to your place has gone missing.”

“It’s in my kitchen,” Steve answered stiffly.

“Why?” Clint asked, frowning.

Steve clenched his jaw for a second. He didn’t look at Bucky.

“I didn’t want it out where anyone could pick it up and stick their hooked noses into my business.”

Clint blinked rapidly. Bucky clenched his jaw, eyes on the ground. Steve pulled his door shut behind him.

“‘Scuse me,” he said, pushing forward.

“Where’re you goin’?” Clint asked.

“Nowhere,” Steve insisted.

“I’ll go with you,” Clint offered.

Steve yanked open the front door. “No, thanks.”

“Yannow, the hooked nose thing’s a lil’ excessive,” Bucky spoke up suddenly.

Steve stopped, but didn’t turn back.

“No need t’a get racist,” Bucky continued.

Steve winced and glanced down, exhaling. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly without turning around. “I shouldn’t have said that, that was – that was uncalled for.”

“Can we talk?” Bucky asked.

Steve hesitated. Then he shut the front door behind him. He jogged down the steps and broke into a sudden run, in case Clint tried to follow him. He could only hope Clint couldn’t track him as well as Natasha could.

*

Clint’s eyes were wide as the front door slammed. Bucky let out a long breath.

“What just happened?” Clint asked.

“I don’ know,” Bucky said, shrugging.

“I’m sorry that that just happened,” Clint added, “I really don’t know what’s gotten into him, Steve would never make a comment like that normally –”

“I’ve pissed him off pretty bad,” Bucky assured Clint. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Still,” Clint said, looking at the door worriedly.

Bucky shrugged. “Look,” he said, exhaling heavily again, “I’m pretty tired, I’m just gonna –”

He pointed vaguely over his shoulder towards the stairs.

“Oh, yeah,” Clint said, waving him on. “No problem. It was nice catching up with you.”

Bucky gave Clint a wave and turned to go. Clint walked up to Steve’s door and began sorting through his keys to let himself into the apartment. Bucky lingered on the landing for a moment, then shook his head and continued to his apartment. 

He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and went to collapse onto his couch. It’d been a long Tuesday.

*

Steve slowed to a walk after a few blocks, once he was satisfied Clint wouldn’t be able to find him. The city was packed with tourists; the bars were open and full to bursting with people celebrating Independence Day early.

Steve hated the day. He’d be 27 in a few hours.

There were advertisements on billboards and storefronts encouraging people to spend money in honor of Captain America’s birthday. Tomorrow was Captain America’s birthday. It wasn’t Steve Rogers’ birthday, it was Captain America’s. Captain America was hardly a person anymore, just the face of yet another sale.

Steve wondered what the American people would say if they knew Captain America hadn’t even been born on American soil. He wondered which would be worse, that Captain America was an immigrant, a male Omega, or a Submissive.

A couple of young girls stumbled onto the streets, drunk off their asses, and right into Steve’s path. He stepped around them and kept walking without hesitation. It didn’t matter; Captain America was just a fictional character anyway. He was just whatever the Army wanted him to be. He could’ve been born under the Liberty Bell at the stroke of midnight to the granddaughter of Paul Revere and with his first breath Dominated his own mother if they wanted. It wasn’t like it mattered who or what Steve was.

He stopped by a small bodega on a whim and browsed the gossip rags. Apparently, he’d gotten a woman pregnant last week. Wasn’t that a miracle of modern science? Steve was capable of impregnating some poor Omega he’d never met all the way in South Queens while he himself had been delirious from heat-sickness off of Fort Hamilton.

“That’s a Lincoln an’ change, pal,” the bodega owner called to him.

Steve looked up and met the owner’s eye. Not a shred of recognition went through the man’s eye.

“No, thanks,” Steve said, tucking the tabloid away. “It’s all bullshit anyway.”

“Hey, that story ‘bout Captain America’s true as they come,” the man insisted. “My cousin knows a friend’a the lady who wrote the story!”

Steve offered him a wry smile and turned away. “Sure thing, pal,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walked away.

“Yeah, whatever,” the man said to his back. “Keep walkin’, girl-boy.”

Steve kept walking. His eyes were down, but his chin was up. If anyone bothered to look twice, they’d realize Captain America was blessing the mortals with his presence. Of course, no one bothered to look even once; Steve was ultimately insignificant.

Ultimately insignificant, Steve became 27 in the early hours of the morning of July 4th. He kept walking, ultimately insignificant. No one stopped him.

*

Bucky went back to work on Wednesday. He’d been reassigned from the Heat Ward to the ICU. At least, he hadn’t been demoted or gotten his pay docked. In a way, it was a relief; the hospital wouldn’t be keeping as close an eye on him anymore. He had more regular hours now; there were a dozen other head nurses, whereas, in the Heat Ward, it’d just been him and two others. He’d work the graveyard shift from then on, since that was what he’d gotten used to; 10 PM and on or so.

He’d miss working with Claire, though. And the Heat Ward had always been quiet, the ICU was never in a lull.

He got home a little after 12 PM Wednesday and he felt more tired than he’d ever been working in the Heat Ward. 

Bucky approached from the south. At the same time, Steve turned the corner in the north. They looked up and stopped a few yards from the steps to their building at the same time.

Bucky couldn’t help but think that Steve, though visibly exhausted, looked better. He looked good.

But his face was impassive.

They stood there. Bucky took the first step forward.

Steve broke into a jog and ran up the steps to unlock the door; Bucky darted forward, like he was chasing him, but as he grabbed the door from Steve and followed him in, Steve ducked into his apartment and slammed the door.

Bucky kicked the door shut behind him, letting out half a shout and half a groan. His toe throbbed and he limped in a circle for a second. Then he let out his breath and flipped the locks, cast a glance at Steve’s door, shook his head, and went upstairs.

He’d apologize when Steve was ready to talk to him again. If that was never, then, well. Bucky would have tried.

*

Steve slammed the door shut behind him. Clint jerked into an upright position on the couch, blinking hard.

“Did you sleep here?” Steve blurted out.

“Yeah,” Clint said, yawning halfway through. “Was waiting for you to get back. What time’s’it?”

Steve glanced over at the oven clock; “Quarter past twelve.”

Clint jerked around and looked out the windows. “PM?” he spluttered.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“Where the hell did you go?” Clint asked in an astonished tone.

Steve shrugged and headed for the fridge. “For a walk.”

He opened it, intending to grab a protein shake; he was hungry. But he still didn’t have any protein shakes. He’d finished the Matzo ball soup a few days ago, now, instead, there was Chinese takeout.

“I ordered food last night!” Clint called. “If you want some.”

Steve shut the fridge. “No, thanks.”

He started for the bathroom. Clint caught his arm.

“Have some rice at least,” he said.

Steve yanked his wrist out of Clint’s grip. “I’m getting a shower,” he said emotionlessly.

Clint didn’t stop him again. Steve shut himself in the bathroom and pulled the scale out.

_194.3._

Steve got into the shower. He didn’t feel any better.

*

Bucky liked his apartment for a lot of reasons, but during the dead of summer and the dead of winter, around July 4th and New Years’, he liked it for one reason best.

The walls were damn thick. When the fireworks went off, he couldn’t hear it.

*

When Steve got out of the bathroom, his apartment smelled like fried rice. He inhaled, clapped a hand over his mouth, and turned right back around to throw up pure bile.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Clint shouted. “I’ll open up a window!”

Steve dry-heaved for a while. He slumped back, and Clint peered nervously into the bathroom.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Steve wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. “No,” he admitted.

*

As the rest of the city set about celebrating, Bucky swallowed the usual dose of sleeping pills and settled into bed. His alarm went off at midnight. He woke up with a jerk, groaned, and wished he could get even ten more minutes of sleep. He got up and, since it was Thursday, went for a run.

*

“No Chinese food,” Clint promised. “I’m really sorry, pal.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve muttered, hands gripping a cup of tea.

“How ‘bout some plain eggs and toast?” Clint suggested. “Easy stuff. Baby steps.”

Steve let out his breath. He was still cold, he was exhausted, his hands shook.

“Sure,” he muttered.

“Baby steps,” Clint repeated, patting his shoulder.

“Baby steps,” Steve said quietly.

As Clint set about frying eggs, Steve reached up and rubbed at the impact of Clint’s palm on his shirt. Covered up the scent of an Alpha with his own touch. Clint’s scent on him left him unsettled still. 

And thinking about the fact that he could almost still catch the smell of Bucky’s rut in his hair, Steve was reminded again that the Alpha upstairs didn’t do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so i thought long and hard about the hooked nose comment and ultimately i decided to leave it in, obviously, bc i really wanted to show that steve isn't perfect. the comment's inspired by severus snape, actually, bc jkr wrote him as this greasy, nasty, jewish stereotype. steve grew up bombarded by all kinds of nasty stereotypes, he internalized most of them bc most of them were about him, but i wanted him to lash out with something like what he got lashed with when he was young. everybody says things at their weak moments that they immediately regret and fill them with shame, and that comment was that for steve._
> 
> _the next two chapters will be up over the evening, so stay tuned_


	8. You got that power over me

#  _8: You got that power over me_

  


Bucky started to get used to the ICU circuit again. He added a little more espresso to his coffee on the way in, bought a different brand of sleep aid that he heard did a better job of putting the user to sleep quickly, left any errands for his day off. Being in the ICU, where there were more head nurses, meant he had more time off, too, and his boss promised him that if he kept up the good work, he’d get a pay raise to match the high demand of being in charge of the ICU. He didn’t even get an official mention in his record of why he’d been transferred from the Heat Ward to ICU; the boss-lady suggested he move, Bucky agreed, and that had been it.

Bucky picked Mondays as his second day off in the week. By that Sunday, he was delighted to have it.

_“Bugsy, you busy this week?”_

“Hello to you, too, Becky,” Bucky answered on his way home on the Metro. “I’m off tomorrow and Tuesday. You need a babysitter?”

_“Would you mind?”_

“Nah,” Bucky promised. “Why don’t you have dinner at my place tomorrow?”

_“You gonna cook?”_

“And save you from another Stouffer's meal?” Bucky returned in a laugh. “You bet I am.”

_“You’re a life-saver! Can I drop the boys off after school tomorrow?”_

“Sure,” Bucky said. “See you then.”

_“See you, love you, Bugsy!”_

“Love you, too,” Bucky replied.

Hanging up, Bucky thunked his head against the pole he was holding onto. He sighed heavily, then picked his phone back up and dialed Sam.

_“‘Sup.”_

“I’m tired and I want a drink,” Bucky confessed.

_“I can be at your place in 20. Where you at?”_

“Four stops away. Subway,” Bucky added.

_“I’ll let myself in.”_

“Thanks, Sam.”

_“No problem, buddy.”_

Bucky dropped his phone and hung up. Let his head bang against the pole again. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of Jack.

*

Steve woke up suddenly, and with that abrupt wake-up came a fat lump of panic in his chest. Someone was in his bedroom. There was a foreign weight on his _bed._

“It’s just me,” Natasha said, grabbing his shoulder. “You’re starfishing. Scoot over.”

The panic abated. Steve shuffled to take up only half of the bed. “I have a guest room, yannow,” he grumbled into his pillow.

Natasha climbed into the bed behind him. “I know,” she said, then pushed a hand under his shoulders and wrapped her other arm around his waist. Steve twisted around, frowning in the darkness at her.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Spooning you,” she said. “Shush.”

Steve was too tired to argue with her. He resolved to do it later. He settled his head back on the pillow to go back to sleep. Natasha plastered to his back and began to breathe evenly and deeply.

Steve fell back asleep. A lot faster than he would have anticipated and a lot easier. Waking up again much later, he felt better rested.

Natasha didn’t wake up when he got out of bed. Steve put on a hoodie, feeling cold, and left his bedroom to let her keep sleeping. Clint was still sprawled on the sofa, snoring. The sofa was heavily infused with his scent at that point; he wore scent-blocking patches instead of taking medication, and he only wore them during missions. 

Steve had begun sitting more in the armchair. He liked Clint. He didn’t mind Clint’s scent. He just didn’t like it on him.

But it was light out, the time read close to noon. Steve wandered into the kitchen, looking around. There were bananas set out on the counter. He sat down at the counter and picked one up.

He ended up eating three.

*

Bucky pushed into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. Sam waved to him from the sofa.

“Look in the fridge,” he said.

“What for?” Bucky countered, though he stepped into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

There was a six-pack of craft ginger beer. Ginger beer, precisely. Completely non-alcoholic. His absolute favorite in the world.

“Found those at Fresh Market,” Sam said, sounding proud of himself.

“Shit, dude!” Bucky laughed, pulling one out. “I love this stuff!”

“I know,” Sam answered. “Happy eight days, pal.”

Bucky took out two and popped off the tops, then joined Sam on the sofa and gave him one.

“I’m ordering pizza,” he decided.

“A good decision,” Sam replied, holding out his bottle.

Bucky clinked them together. Sam winked as he raised it to his lips and took a swig.

“What’re you in the mood for?” 

“Not pineapple.”

“You’re a child,” Bucky retorted. “Picky eater.”

“I’m four months older than you!” Sam protested.

Bucky stuck his tongue out. Sam tried to grab it and Bucky ducked his grabbing hand before blowing a raspberry in his direction. Sam stuck his nose in the air.

“And you call me a child,” he said.

“You’re a picky eater!” Bucky insisted.

“I don’t stick my tongue out at people!” Sam countered.

Bucky stuck his tongue back out. Sam lunged for him and Bucky jumped up and danced away, waving his phone as he dialed his favorite pizza place.

“I’m feeding you, remember that!” he said.

Sam waved a hand. “It’s your turn to pay, anyway.”

Bucky stuck his tongue out for the third time. Sam rolled his eyes.

“You talked to Steve yet?”

Bucky held up a finger. Sam waited as he placed the order for their pizza, arms loose at his sides. Bucky hung up and started to count out the change to pay when the pizza person got there.

“So?”

“No,” Bucky said simply. “He’s still pissed, doesn’t wanna talk to me. I figured it’d be better if I left ‘im alone.”

Sam nodded. Bucky dropped back onto the sofa with him.

“You did the right thing,” Sam reassured him.

Bucky shrugged. “Shouldn’t’ve stuck around at SHIELD. Should’ve left before he woke up.”

“Maybe,” Sam answered.

Bucky shrugged again. He leaned over and grabbed the TV remote.

“He’ll talk to you eventually,” Sam said.

“Maybe,” Bucky echoed. “I wanna watch gross cop shows, you in?”

“Might as well,” Sam sighed.

*

Steve went looking for his running shoes, but couldn’t find them. As he got on his knees to look under the couch, he heard the door to his room open and pushed up, to watch Natasha slip out, rubbing at her eyes.

“Have you seen my running shoes?” Steve asked.

Natasha held up a finger. She turned around and walked back into his room. Steve sat back on his heels, waiting, and Natasha reemerged with a large box.

“They’re in here,” she said.

Steve got up, frowning, and reached out to take the box. There was a digital display on it; 10 hours, 44 minutes, 36 seconds. 35 seconds, 34, 33.

Steve frowned more and tried to open the box, but it was locked.

“It’ll stay locked until that timer goes off,” Natasha informed him. “Breakfast?”

She walked past him. Steve stepped back, looking down at the locked box in his hands.

“What did you do this for?” he asked, looking up to frown at Natasha instead.

“Intervention,” she replied calmly.

Steve looked back down and clenched his jaw. He could probably break the box open.

He was still tired. Natasha was still giving him commands. He could just accept it.

Steve put the box down. He walked away. Sat down at the counter and pulled the sleeves of his hoodie past his fingertips; he’d bought this sweater right after waking up last year, intentionally picked it out for the fact that it was a 5XL. It was massive on his already massive body. It made him feel smaller.

“I’m gonna go run some errands later,” Natasha told him. “Wake up Clint, would you?”

Steve pushed back and glanced over his shoulder. Clint was still snoring.

“Can’t we just let him sleep?” he asked, turning around again.

Natasha glanced up. Then she shrugged.

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll wake him up before I leave.”

“Why do you have to wake him up at all?” Steve asked.

Natasha glanced at him, then away. “Would you like a smoothie with breakfast? I’m gonna make eggs; there’s some fruits and veggies in here that need to be used.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Steve snapped.

Natasha pulled a container of yogurt and a jug of milk from the fridge and put it on the counter next to his blender. Then she turned around and crossed her arms over her stomach. She shrugged.

“I know,” she said. “But it makes me feel better if you’re not alone.”

Steve dropped her gaze, then exhaled. Natasha went back to the fridge and pulled out a few kiwis and a bag of spinach.

“You could put the spinach in the eggs,” Steve said quietly. “And there are mushrooms, too.”

Natasha glanced over her shoulder. Then she nodded.

“Okay.”

*

“I gotta get goin’,” Sam sighed, wiping his hands off on a paper towel. “Got group to set up for at the VA.”

Bucky pushed up with him. “I’ll walk you out,” he offered.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. Bucky opened the door for him, then followed him out onto the stairs.

“I’ll see you Tuesday,” Bucky said to him.

“You’d better,” Sam joked, throwing him a wink. “See you, Barnes.”

Bucky waved as Sam descended the steps onto the street. He swung the front door shut and turned around.

He paused at Steve’s door. Thought, what the hell. He knocked.

The door actually opened. Bucky blinked, surprised, until he saw Natasha standing on the other side.

“Hey,” she said. “Perfect timing. Come in.”

“Uh,” Bucky started to say.

Natasha grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. Bucky stumbled a little, caught his footing quickly and pulled his hand away. Steve, sat at a counter in the kitchen and leaning on it, glanced up at him and away.

“You two catch up,” Natasha said, grabbing a ring of keys. “I’m gonna get some shit done. See you, Rogers.”

“I –” Bucky started.

Natasha paused at his side. “Leave him alone and I’ll personally see that you end up on the bottom of the Hudson,” she whispered.

Bucky recoiled a little, blinking hard. Natasha gave him a sweet smile and strode past. Bucky glanced behind her.

“Um,” he said.

Steve pushed up from the counter. “She didn’t mean that,” he said. “You don’t have to stick around.”

Bucky pointed behind him at the open door. “Does she normally threaten people casually like that?”

Steve just shrugged. Bucky swallowed, then ran a hand through his hair.

“Listen,” he started, “I, uh, I’ve been trying to have a word with you for a while now.”

“I know,” Steve said flatly.

Bucky took a hesitant step forward. He pointed to a stool on the other side of the counter, raising his eyebrows. “Can I sit?”

Steve shrugged. “If you want.”

Bucky slid onto the seat. Steve crossed his arms over his chest; he was wearing a huge hoodie, one that hung off his shoulders. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was intentionally overlarge or if Steve had once been that broad.

“I wanted to apologize,” Bucky started. “For overstaying my welcome at SHIELD. I had no right to stick around.”

“Okay,” Steve answered.

“I – I’m sorry I rutted,” Bucky added. Because that was really what he was sorry for. “I don’t have an excuse.”

Steve drew his eyebrows together. “You’re sorry you rutted?” he repeated, almost disbelievingly.

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head. “Rut’s not exactly something you can consciously stop,” he pointed out.

Bucky shrugged, glancing down. “I’m still sorry.”

Steve let out a scoff. Bucky shook his head and pushed off the stool.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just – I needed to apologize about that.”

“Specifically for rutting,” Steve insisted. “Nothing else.”

Bucky clenched his jaw for a second, then looked up and squared his gaze on Steve’s. “I’m not sorry for taking you in,” he answered. “Yeah.”

Steve then broke his gaze. He slouched on his stool, looking away.

“You could’ve died,” Bucky added. “I messed up by sticking around you while I was rutting, and I’m really sorry about that, Steve, I truly am, but I can’t apologize for taking you to the hospital.”

Steve looked at the counter, his eyebrows drawn together. Sighing, Bucky started to turn around.

“I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole,” Steve said abruptly.

Bucky turned back.

Steve wasn’t looking at him, his posture was still defensive, but his face was apologetic and his eyes were downcast. He looked sorry.

“You were just doing your job,” he continued. “I – I was in a bad place.”

“I only wanted to help,” Bucky replied softly.

Steve nodded once. “I know,” he answered. “I didn’t want your help. But I needed it.”

Bucky stepped back in. Set a hand on the counter, watching Steve carefully.

“And what I said about your nose,” Steve continued again. “That was – That was unacceptable. And childish.”

“I forgive it,” Bucky answered.

Steve nodded once. “And if it makes you feel better,” he said, shrugging and finally glancing up, only briefly but up, “it didn’t bother me that you were still there when I woke up. Or that you rutted at all,” he added.

“Okay,” Bucky said, voice quiet.

Steve glanced over his shoulder; Bucky followed his gaze and spotted their landlord passed out on the sofa, dead asleep. 

“He’s been there a while,” Steve said, watching Clint still. “Natasha was going to wake him up when she left, but then you showed up. So, thanks for that, I guess.”

“No problem,” Bucky said, a little numb.

Steve looked back around. “I’m – I’m not much company.”

“Me, neither,” Bucky admitted. “I’ve been up since last night.”

“Fuck, you should be in bed!” Steve burst out. “I’m sorry –”

Bucky waved a hand. “Nah, I was just hanging out with a friend, he just left. I’ll hit the sack after Black Widow gets back.”

Steve bit his lip. Bucky immediately zeroed in on his plump lower lip, the skin white under his teeth and brightly pink everywhere else. Then felt guilty and dropped his gaze even as he wondered what those lips tasted like.

“We could head back up to your place.”

Bucky lifted his gaze and his eyebrows. Steve shrugged.

“I don’t wanna wake up Clint anyway,” he said. “We could, um, just hang out?”

“Sure,” Bucky said. Definitely a lot numb. “Yeah.”

Steve slipped off his stool and stepped around the counter; he was socks and no shoes, white socks with blue toes and heels and cursive letters spelling out _Dodgers_ across each foot.

“Didn’t take you for an LA fan,” Bucky commented.

Steve glanced down at his feet. “Oh,” he said, then raised an eyebrow and glanced up, looking sardonic. “These are seventy-year-old socks, pal.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said, walking backwards with Steve out of the apartment, “the Dodgers used t’a hail from Brooklyn. I forgot they were still here when you were a kid.”

Steve suddenly broke into a smile. “You’re the first.”

“What, can’t help the fact that you act like a sullen teenager,” Bucky defended himself.

“If I’m a sullen teenager, you’re a grumpy old man,” Steve countered.

Bucky clapped a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt, punk.”

“Be butt hurt, jerk,” Steve answered, grinning.

Steve had a dimple in his left cheek. Bucky grinned back, glancing down at the steps he was taking as they headed up to his place. Steve was cute.

*

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets to follow Bucky up to the second-floor apartment. His heartbeat was wild in his throat.

He didn’t even know what he was doing. 

“Here,” Bucky said, flipping on the lights. “Uh, I was watching CSI with my friend earlier.”

“CSI?” Steve repeated.

“Crime Scene Investigation,” Bucky explained. “Cop show.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He nodded, looking around. “Uh, I’ve been mostly watching soap operas with Natasha.”

“Really?” Bucky questioned, stifling a snort.

“She likes ‘em,” Steve defended.

“To each their own,” Bucky said, shrugging.

Steve glanced around, taking in the apartment. Everything was layered in the scent of the Alpha standing next to him. Just standing there, Steve knew that he was absorbing Bucky’s scent.

He sat down on the sofa, pulling his legs up to lean against the arm of the couch. He wanted more of Bucky’s scent.

“What’s CSI about?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, sitting down at the other end of the couch. “Cop stuff. They solve murders mostly. Uh, it can get pretty gruesome.”

“I don’t mind gruesome,” Steve decided.

Bucky shrugged again and picked up a remote. He switched on the TV and cable box and opened the DVR. Steve slipped down the sofa a little, putting his feet onto the cushion between him and Bucky, and he leaned his head against the arm of the couch.

Bucky’s scent was all over the sofa, Steve guessed he normally sat at this end. Steve tucked a throw pillow under his head, one he could assume Bucky used for the same reason. He wanted Bucky’s scent.

“So, that’s the boss guy, Taylor,” Bucky told him. “We like him, he’s grumpy.”

“Like you?” Steve offered.

Bucky made an affronted noise. Steve laughed and slumped a little more on the sofa, sticking his feet out towards Bucky without even meaning to.

“Punk,” Bucky muttered in offense.

“Jerk,” Steve answered, somehow now fond.

Bucky glanced at him and their eyes met. Steve didn’t move. Bucky set his hand on Steve’s foot.

Steve smiled a little and turned his gaze back to the TV. He was starved for touch and he liked Bucky’s touch in particular. He wasn’t going to deny that any longer.

“Anyway,” Bucky added. “Um. So, that’s Taylor, he’s the boss. That’s Stella, she’s a boss; she’s awesome, she’s not _the_ boss, but she’s a boss.”

“Swell,” Steve murmured.

As the episode continued, Bucky’s commentary slowed. When it ended, the program returned to the DVR and the news started in the background. Steve glanced up.

Bucky was slumped against the other arm of the sofa, fast asleep. He was snoring quietly, now audible with the show over. His hand still rested on Steve’s foot.

The TV remote was between them. Steve picked it up, selected another episode, and started it. He slid back down the sofa and let his toes come in contact with Bucky’s thigh. His feet were cold. Bucky continued to snore absently. Steve stuck his toes under Bucky’s leg.

Bucky didn’t wake up. Steve watched two more episodes, enjoying the show and the little bit of contact between him and Bucky.

Then the front door opened and Natasha stuck her head in. She opened her mouth and Steve quickly sat up to press a finger to his lips.

“Bucky’s asleep,” he hissed. “What?”

Natasha shut her mouth. She blinked. She pointed in their direction, frowning, then just turned around and left. Steve shrugged and settled back down to continue watching the show.

*

Bucky woke up with a snort, jerking his head up from where it’d fallen against the back of the sofa, and looked around blearily. The apartment was dark, as was the TV, which Bucky was sure had been on when he’d fallen asleep. Bucky sat up and his hands fell to his side, then froze.

He looked over to the left. His hand had fallen onto Steve’s ankle, onto his skin as his pant leg had ridden up and the tops of his socks ridden down. Steve was still curled up on the couch next to him, by then sprawled across almost the full length of the couch and his toes were pressed against Bucky’s leg. He’d put his hood up at some point and his sleeves were pulled over his knuckles. Steve lay with his cheek smashed against the pillow under his head, the lion one that was leftover from Becca’s pregnancy with Benny, and his lips were just a little bit parted as he breathed slowly.

Bucky blinked. 

Steve was asleep.

For a long time, Bucky just sat there, watching Steve sleep until his brain helpfully supplied the comparison of Edward Cullen, at which point, Bucky got up very quickly. Steve shifted a little and Bucky froze again, but Steve just stuck his legs further down the sofa and remained asleep. Bucky gingerly picked up a throw blanket from across the back of the couch, unfolded it, and carefully laid it over Steve’s body. Steve snuffled a little and rubbed his cheek into the pillow. Bucky backed off.

The apartment was silent, the cable box read the hour as almost four in the morning, which meant that Bucky had slept on the couch for almost ten hours. That explained the crick in his neck and his uncomfortably stiff back. Bucky walked into the kitchen, grimacing as he grabbed his back and twisted from side to side to loosen up. His spine popped and Bucky winced, glancing back at Steve. He didn’t wake up.

Bucky opened the fridge and took out another bottle of ginger beer, popped the cap and gave it a sip. The cool, crisp flavor jarred his senses and woke him up a little more. Bucky leaned against the counter and resumed just staring at Steve.

It was one thing for him to fall asleep on the couch, he’d done it plenty of times. It was another that _Steve_ had fallen asleep there.

It was Monday morning, and normally Bucky would be leaving for his run before work, but his new schedule gave him today off and the presence of Steve definitely left him feeling a little shook up. Bucky continued to drink the soda while watching Steve sleep on the couch. Why hadn’t he gone back downstairs?

Steve was just asleep. Bucky was overthinking things. They were barely back on speaking terms, Steve probably just fell asleep like Bucky had done without meaning to. It meant absolutely nothing and Bucky needed to stop thinking about it.

Bucky finished the soda, dropped the bottle into the recycle bin. Went into his bedroom and changed into fresh clothes. He was not going to skip his Monday run and he had to run errands anyway. He changed into joggers, a tank top, and a track jacket; it was probably chilly out, since the sun hadn’t risen yet. He put on shoes, grabbed his keys and wallet and phone, and stopped in front of the couch. 

Steve hadn’t woken up and Bucky didn’t like the thought of just leaving him there. He lowered himself to a knee in front of the couch and gently put pressure on Steve’s shoulders.

Steve woke up sharply, sucking in a breath as he blinked and looked around. Bucky quickly caught his hand, smiling in a way he hoped would be reassuring.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You fell asleep.”

Steve looked around. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes with a hand, his fingers poking out of his sleeve. Bucky stood up again.

“I would’a carried you back downstairs but I ain’t exactly Superman,” Bucky joked. “Uh. I gotta head out on my run.”

Steve rubbed at his neck, nodding a little. Bucky started to take a step back, then Steve looked up at him and caught his eye.

“Can I come?”

Bucky hesitated. Thought about it. Steve’s lips were set in a frown and his eyebrows were drawn together.

“Alright,” Bucky agreed. “But, uh, you gotta be careful.”

Steve nodded, pushing up from the couch. “I know,” he said. “It’s better I go with you than on my own, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed again, nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Lemme get shoes,” Steve said, standing.

“Sure.”

Bucky held the door for Steve. They went back downstairs and Steve headed into his apartment. Bucky followed, hands in his pockets. Steve grabbed a pair of running shoes from a box, then ducked into his bedroom. Bucky lingered in the kitchen. Clint was sleeping on the sofa again and Bucky wondered if he’d even woken up since yesterday, since he was still wearing the same clothes.

Steve slipped out of his bedroom again, a bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. “Natasha’s still sleeping,” he said quietly. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom.”  


Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” he answered. “Right. ‘Course.”

Steve shut himself in the bathroom. Bucky glanced away, then at Steve’s bedroom, then unwittingly moved forward. He cracked the door open and peered inside.

Natasha was sprawled in the only bed, sound asleep. Bucky gently shut the door again and turned around, walking away again. Right. Of course.

Steve left the bathroom, dressed in a new T-shirt and a pair of running shorts, his vintage Dodgers socks pulled high up on his calves like a dork. The shirt, a gray Under Armour top, was tight to his skin. Bucky glanced once at the visible definition of Steve’s chest and abs under the shirt and looked away again.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, heading for the door again. “C’mon.”

Steve went out first and jogged down the steps, then stretched out his shoulders and did a couple of lunges while Bucky locked the door behind them.

“How long has Natasha been living with you?” Bucky asked casually, following him down the steps.

Steve just shrugged. “A while. Why?”

Bucky shrugged back. “Nothing,” he said. It wasn’t his business who Steve slept with. It didn’t matter. It made sense, obviously, he and Natasha were together; she was his emergency contact, she was so concerned about his recovery, of course. Bucky didn’t need to pry further than that.

He started a quick walk, letting himself warm up. Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and matched Bucky’s pace.

“What’s a sponsor?” Steve asked out of nowhere.

Bucky almost tripped. He righted himself and glanced in Steve’s direction, then away.

“Uh,” he started.

“Don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Steve added, sounding hasty. “I just – Natasha said something, last week, when you came home drunk.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “I, uh, I don’t remember a lot of that night.”

Steve nodded once. “I looked it up, what she said, I used Google. It said something about – about addiction.”

Bucky gave a nod, his gaze panning away. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m in AA. Alcoholics Anonymous,” he added.

“Oh,” Steve said.

“Sponsors are kinda like mentors,” Bucky continued. “They help you keep on track with whatever you’re dealing with.”

“Oh,” Steve repeated, quieter.

Bucky nodded once, now looking at the ground.

“Is there –” Steve started, then stopped.

Bucky looked up at him. “You can ask whatever you’re thinking,” he said. “I won’t mind.”

“Uh, no, that’s not –” Steve started, his cheeks flushing, “not what I was thinking about.”

Bucky frowned, glancing at him. “What, then?”

“Is there one of those things for –” Steve started again, hand slipping out of his pocket to gesture towards himself, his eyes firmly on the ground. “Anorexia?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quickly. “Yeah, I actually – I know a couple’a places you could check out.”

Steve tightened his jaw, nodding a little. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Bucky pulled out his phone right then, even, opening his contacts.

“My AA meeting’s at the VA,” he said, “but there’s a community center near here that hosts a whole bunch of Twelve Step programs.”

He pulled up the number for a woman he knew went to AA and meetings at the community center. He sent her a quick text, asking if he could refer a friend to the meeting she ran.

“You can give EDA a try,” Bucky offered. “Eating Disorders Anonymous, I mean.”

“Thanks,” Steve repeated, just as quiet. Then he glanced up and met Bucky’s gaze for a brief second, before nodding and dropping his gaze again. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Bucky said.

Steve shoved his hands back in his pockets. Bucky put his phone away and stuck his hands in his pockets, too. 

“Could I ask about you, though?” Steve said.

“Sure,” Bucky answered.

“You okay?”

Bucky hadn’t expected that. He glanced at Steve, then away and smiled a little.

“Nah,” he said. “But, at the same time, yeah. I’m a helluva lot better than I was when I was your age.”

Steve laughed suddenly. “Pal, you’re forty-somethin’ years younger than I am.”

“Nah, you’re eleven years younger than me!” Bucky insisted, jerking his head up to cast a grin in Steve’s direction; he tugged his hand from his pocket to give Steve a friendly punch to the shoulder. “You’re twenty-six, kid!”

“Twenty-seven,” Steve said.

Bucky thought about it. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Shit, nobody said happy birthday, huh?”

Steve shrugged.

Bucky clapped Steve’s shoulder. “Happy belated birthday, kid,” he said. “Lemme buy you a cupcake.”

Steve laughed, smiling a little, though it was tight. “Okay,” he agreed.

They didn’t do much running. Bucky switched up the route so they’d pass his favorite bakery.

“Come on,” he said, opening the door for Steve.

“How is this place even open?” Steve asked, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s barely five.”

“They’re open twenty-four/seven,” Bucky said. “They get all the college students and night shift people.”

“That’s actually a great marketing strategy,” Steve answered.

“Definitely,” Bucky said, grinning as he walked up to the counter.

He rang a service bell and stepped back to tap Steve’s arm. “Pick out a cupcake,” he told him.

Steve looked suddenly nervous. 

“We could share,” Bucky added.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Steve asked, glancing up.

Bucky shrugged. “As long as you don’t want vanilla with vanilla.”

“Vanilla’s not my favorite,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Bucky couldn’t help but snort, clapping a hand over his mouth. Steve frowned at him.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“I don’t like vanilla either,” Bucky wheezed to himself.

“This is some double entendre thing I don’t get, isn’t it?” Steve said with a scowl.

“Vanilla’s code for neutral,” the baker answered as she walked up. She winked as Steve turned bright red and waved. “Hey, Barnes.”

“Hey, Nancy,” Bucky answered, sniggering still. “Go easy on my pal here, he was raised pretty conservative.”

“Homeschooled?” Nancy asked Steve.

“Uh,” Steve started.

“Something like that,” Bucky said quickly. “Could you cut one cupcake in half for us to share?”

“Sure,” Nancy said. “Which one?”

Bucky glanced back at Steve. “You pick.”

Steve shrugged as he looked back over the case. “Um. The red velvet one?”

“Excellent choice,” Nancy answered happily, stepping aside to slide the case open. “I actually just put these in the case, like, six minutes ago.”

“Those are my favorite,” Bucky offered.

Steve smiled a little, backing up. Bucky patted his shoulder briefly, keeping his touch light; he didn’t want to leave too much of his scent on Steve.

Nancy cut the cupcake in half and boxed each half up for them. Bucky took out his wallet and forked over the six bucks to cover it.

“Keep the change, babe,” Bucky told her, picking up the boxes.

“Bless!” Nancy said, blowing a kiss his way.

Bucky handed one to Steve and started back out. He paused to hold the door open and Steve followed him out.

“Happy birthday,” Bucky repeated on their way out.

“Thanks,” Steve answered, ducking his head as he smiled a little.

“Anytime, buddy,” Bucky promised.

Bucky ate his cupcake half a lot slower than he normally would have, but Steve ate all of his as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. They didn’t run, they didn’t even jog. They just walked and enjoyed the halved cupcake. 

“This was fun,” Steve said as they neared their building again.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Bucky agreed. “You doin’ better?”

Steve gave a nod. “I think so,” he said, taking in a breath. “It’s been five days since I used the scale,” he added, sounding a little embarrassed to admit it.

Bucky grinned, though. He gave Steve’s shoulder another friendly punch.

“You’d get a five-day chip for that,” he said. “Been eleven days since I had a drink.”

“That’s good,” Steve told him, now looking up.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Bucky added. “You’re doin’ great.”

Steve smiled again, still slight and tired, but it looked more relaxed than Bucky had ever seen it.

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly. “That means a lot.”

“Of course,” Bucky answered, a little startled. “Anytime, kid.”

Steve took one of the steps up, glancing at the door. “I’d better get back in before Natasha wakes up,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “I got groceries to pick up. See you, pal.”

Steve let himself in and the door shut quietly behind him. Bucky stood there for a moment, then stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking again.

It meant a lot that he was proud of Steve. Bucky tried not to put more into that than there really was; which was nothing. Steve was with Natasha, Bucky wouldn't touch that. 

*

Steve returned to his apartment feeling almost giddy. It was so fucking stupid how delighted it made him to hear Bucky say something so simple; _I’m proud of you._

It was stupid. It was childish. Steve was a mess but he knew one thing for certain; the Alpha living upstairs had captured his attention. He’d imprinted on this guy like a fucking duckling. He knew how stupid it was, but he didn’t want to stop. Steve was casually bearing Bucky’s scent, casually could remember the feel of his knuckles or hand brushing his shoulder, touches that were purely friendly, and Steve wanted more. 

It was like Steve's head had been taken over by a hurricane; everything was too loud or hard or difficult or complicated and he could never hold onto just one thing at a time, because the winds would snatch it away from him and force something new on him instead. But Bucky set a hand on his shoulder and suddenly Steve was in the eye, in the calm, quiet, easy and familiar. Peggy used to be able to do that for him, when he hadn't known the difference between loving discipline and careless abuse, but they never had time to really try to wait out the storm. 

He returned to his bedroom and found Natasha still asleep. Steve changed into a pair of sleep pants and a loose cotton shirt, then got in with her. She wrapped around him in her sleep and Steve let her pull him in. It still didn’t feel satisfying, not the way he wanted. He wouldn’t lie to himself anymore, Natasha’s was not the touch he craved.

He fell asleep and dreamed of Bucky. He’d dreamt of Bucky for the first time not long after he’d moved in nearly two months ago. This dream, like the first, had Bucky putting Steve on his knees, telling him that that was where he belonged. That dream had ended badly. In this dream, Bucky put Steve on his knees and told him he was good.

That was the gist of it that Steve remembered when he woke up, at least. It was what he wanted. For Bucky to lead him into the eye of the hurricane and just keep him there until the winds and rain died away. There was time for patience now. Steve just had to fight his way through the storm until Bucky found him. 

He could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i say stay tuned a lot, don't i? but it's so simple and concise, stay tuned, there's more coming, don't touch that dial, ladies and germs. now i'm thinking of PT. don't touch that dial, we're just getting started_


	9. Another Category 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _up ahead, another depression spiral, but also emotional spanking._

#  _9: Another Category 5_

Three weeks of medical leave finally ended with a summons for a mission in the South Pacific. Steve was with Bucky when he got the text.

“I gotta go,” Steve interrupted what Bucky had been saying. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” Bucky answered, leaning back on his stool. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Mission,” Steve said, heading for his room. “Can’t say more than that, sorry.”

“You sure you’re up for that?”

Steve stopped in the doorway. Bucky sounded genuine in his concern. The two of them were alone, had been since Natasha went out a few hours ago to run errands.

Steve wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to go.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking himself. “Of course.”

“If you’re sure,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve grabbed his gear and picked up his shield. It was heavy in his hands.

“It’s fine,” he said, walking out again. “Will you tell Natasha that I got called in when she gets back?”

Bucky looked away, nodding. “Yeah, no problem.”

Steve fell short, a few steps away from the door. He hesitated, watching Bucky.

“Do you mind?” he blurted out.

“Nah, I’ll make sure she gets the message,” Bucky promised. “I’d better get outta your hair.”

Steve started to say something, but Bucky slipped out of the apartment. Steve’s shoulders deflated. He felt indecisive. Bucky hadn’t understood. Steve wanted his permission to go at all.

He shook himself again. Bucky wasn’t his Dom, not yet. He didn’t need his permission for anything. Not getting it didn't make him disobedient. 

Steve went out the door. The shield was heavy on his back. He hated it.

*

Bucky went for the fridge the second he entered his apartment. He realized what he was doing and let out a heavy sigh, thunk his head against the door to the freezer. He had La Croix, though, Steve liked them. Bucky grabbed one of those, popped the top, and took a gulp. At least he’d be hydrating, since this shit was barely more than carbonated water.

Bucky pulled out his phone and walked into the living room, already dialing Sam. It rang for a minute and Bucky sipped at the sparkling water. He made fun of Steve when he’d initially expressed his fondness for La Croix, now here he was. It was stupid.

_“Whaddup, my man?”_

“Usual,” Bucky said. “Well, usual-ish. Can I rant?”

_“‘Course you can, have at it.”_

“Steve’s back on missions,” Bucky started. “Natasha said he had three weeks of medical leave, right? It’s three weeks barely to the morning and he just left for a new mission.”

_“Makes sense, he’s kinda a valuable asset to SHIELD.”_

“But before this happened,” Bucky said, “he was on missions constantly. There’d be times when he barely got back home for an hour before they called him back out.”

_“Oh.”_

“Exactly,” Bucky said. “I’m worried they’re just gonna do that all over again.”

_“Have you mentioned this to Steve?”_

“No,” Bucky admitted. “He just left, like, five minutes ago.”

_“When’s he coming back?”_

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed. “He asked me to let Natasha know,” he added in a quieter voice.

_“What’s that tone for?”_ Sam asked immediately.

“What tone?” Bucky defended himself.

_“Boy, don’t play with me,”_ Sam demanded.

Bucky sighed heavily. He slumped forward and put down the can of La Croix to instead rub at his temple.

“Him and Natasha are sleeping together,” Bucky said.

_“Oh! Okay, then. Really?”_

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. “She’s been staying with him since he got back.”

_“Okay, so what’s the tone for?”_ Sam asked again.

Bucky gritted his teeth, then sighed. “Can you guess?”

_“You’ve got a thing for blue-eyed blondes that’re too tough to be submissive?”_

“Yep,” Bucky muttered.

_“Well, just stick it out! See what happens, ya never know.”_

Bucky sighed. “Thanks, Sam.”

_“No problem, pal. We good for tomorrow night?”_

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

_“See you.”_

Bucky hung up. He picked up the can of La Croix and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. Maybe he’d be lucky and his crush on Steve would resolve itself. 

Then again, luck didn’t seem to be on his side with this.

*

Steve had missed a lot, it seemed, because the Strike Team had no shortage of work for him to do. He saw Natasha a few times and asked her to let Bucky know that he was fine, he was just busy with work.

He hadn’t been back to New York in a month. He was exhausted.

“We’re tracking the insurgents now,” Rumlow was briefing Steve. “Shouldn’t be hard to bring ‘em in.”

“Easy mission,” Steve agreed.

“Which means you’ll be able to handle it fine on your own,” Fury suddenly interrupted.

Steve straightened up and snapped to attention out of habit. Fury held up a hand to him, then waved Rumlow off.

“I need Captain Rogers for the time being,” he said. “Handle this without him.”

“No problem, Director,” Rumlow answered, backing off with a nod to Steve. “See you, then.”

Fury waved to him. Steve fell into step behind him.

“Agent Romanoff tells me you’ve been busy,” Fury said.

“Just keeping up with the flow of duty,” Steve answered.

“Well, you’re too busy,” Fury told him, stepping in front of him. “Take a couple days off, Rogers. Go home.”

Steve thought about arguing. Then he thought about how long it had been since he’d been touched by someone that wasn’t punching him and relented.

“Orders are orders, sir,” Steve said. “Call me back in in a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fury replied. “Get outta here, Rogers.”

Steve took his bike and, on impulse, drove back to New York. From DC. All night. The thought of home – the chance opportunity to accidentally brush against Bucky’s hand or arm – was more than enough to encourage him to make the journey.

He got in early the next morning, sometime after eight. Bucky would still be at work. Steve reluctantly let himself into his own apartment. He dropped his gear and went straight for the shower. He ignored the scale sitting under the cabinet. It was hard. It felt like an accomplishment.

Steve barely made it to bed before falling asleep. But barely a few hours later, knocking at his door woke him up. 

Steve got up, rubbing at his eyes. He walked slowly out of his bedroom to answer the front door. Unlocking and opening it, Steve found Bucky on the other side.

“Hey,” Bucky started, “when did you get back –”

Steve impulsively grabbed him in a hug. Bucky stiffened initially, then just as quickly hugged him back. Steve pressed his cheek against Bucky’s shoulder and just basked there. He exhaled, feeling relief.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” Bucky answered, sounding confused. “You okay, kid?”

Steve nodded a little. He was better, at least.

Bucky started to pull back and Steve reluctantly let him go. He didn’t want to let go, not at all.

“Have you been back long?” Bucky asked.

“Just got in this morning,” Steve said. 

“You could’a called,” Bucky joked.

“I don’t have your phone number,” Steve pointed out.

“Oh,” Bucky replied, then laughed. “Yeah, shit, you’re right. Hang on.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it to Steve. “Put your number in.”

Steve quickly entered the number, then handed it back. Bucky sent Steve a text, then put it away and raised his eyebrows.

“Next time you’re away for a month, you can let me know you’re okay,” he said.

Steve saluted, backing up to invite Bucky in. “Whatever you say, pal,” he answered. “Come sit down.”

“I just got off work,” Bucky said, though. “Sorry, it was a really long shift –”

“Right, no problem,” Steve answered quickly, though he was disappointed. “I’m taking a couple of days off, though, so, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Bucky told him with a nod. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself, kid, you work too much.”

“Says the guy who works sixteen-hour days,” Steve joked.

Bucky shrugged. “I’m doin’ twelve-hour shifts, for the most part, these days, today was an exception.”

“Really?” Steve questioned. “That’s good, right?”

“Gives me more time to sleep,” Bucky quipped. He stepped back, lifting a hand in a wave. “I’ll see you later, kid, alright?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, hand going to the door as he watched Bucky leave.

He let out his breath. Shut the door and went back to bed, tired again. He’d wanted more than just one hug.

*

Bucky let himself into his apartment and fell back against the door with a heavy breath. He fancied he could still feel Steve’s arms tight around him.

The fuck had that been about?

Bucky pushed off the door and headed straight for the shower. He did his best thinking in there, after all. And this demanded some deep ass thoughts. He hadn’t seen Steve in weeks, he’d been worried about him. Natasha had called him last week to tell him that Steve was fine, and that alone was weird because Bucky had no clue how she got his number.

Steve, firstly, did not look fine. Bucky had been two seconds away from dragging Steve by the back of his neck up to his apartment and putting him on the sofa to force-feed him comfort food. That hug had thrown Bucky for a loop and had his instincts as an Alpha and a Dom demanding he do fucking something to help the needy look in Steve’s eye.

Well, Bucky still couldn’t just do nothing. Halfway to the shower, he stopped and tugged out his phone. He might not know how Natasha got his number, but that call last week meant he had _hers._ And Steve was her submissive; at least, Bucky was pretty sure that was how they worked. Regardless, Steve was hers and he needed her.

Didn’t make Bucky any less prickly about the fact that he’d much rather go right back downstairs and drag Steve up here to take care of him himself, of course.

_“Romanoff,”_ Natasha answered the call.

“It’s Bucky,” Bucky started. “Uh, Barnes. Listen, Steve just got back home and I think he needs you.”

The words felt bitter in his mouth, but he said them.

_“What’s the matter with him?”_ Natasha replied. _“Has he been eating? Is he sleeping?”_

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, getting sharp, “I just got home myself, I knocked on his door and the first thing he did was hug me.”

_“Okay,”_ Natasha said, completely calm; too calm, Bucky thought, this was her Sub they were talking about. _“But has he eaten?”_

Bucky sighed and turned on his heel. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “I didn’t ask.”

_“So go downstairs and get some food in him.”_

Bucky scowled at a wall. “I called you for a reason, Natasha!”

_“I’m in Chile, Barnes,”_ Natasha told him flatly. _“I can’t exactly force-feed Rogers from South America.”_

“Oh,” Bucky said, deflating completely.

_“Go feed him,”_ Natasha repeated. 

Then his phone disconnected. Bucky dropped it from his ear, nonplussed. 

“She hung up on me,” Bucky muttered to himself. “Hung up on me. On me. She hung up.”

Bucky blinked rapidly for a second, then groaned and headed back for his front door. Natasha was a Dominant, through and through, because Bucky was prickly all over again about being ordered around. Only reason he was even doing what she told him to was because Steve needed a firm hand right then.

So he went back downstairs, already planning what he was going to make for dinner. Definitely some kind of pasta.

He knocked on Steve’s door again. A second later, Steve opened it and blinked at Bucky in surprise.

“I’m making food,” Bucky said before Steve could question him. “Come eat.”

Steve blinked again. Then stepped out into the hall and shut his door behind him.

“You got your key?” Bucky asked immediately.

“Uh,” Steve said, turning back.

He tried the door; it opened.

“Front door’s locked,” Bucky said, waving a hand. “It’ll be fine. Come on.”

Steve shut his door again and followed Bucky back up the stairs. He was still barefoot and wearing sleep pants and a plain T-shirt, and as Bucky let him into his apartment, he hugged himself and rubbed his hands up and down his arms.

“Cold?” Bucky asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Hang on.”

He didn’t wait for Steve to answer, just grabbed a basket of clean laundry and dug around until he found a sweatshirt.

“Here,” Bucky said, handing it to him. “You can put that on, it’s clean, I promise.”

Steve took it, looked at it for a second, then pulled it over his head. Bucky just turned and headed for his kitchen.

“Pasta,” he said, “what do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Steve answered in a quiet voice.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder. Steve was smiling just a little, sitting at the kitchen table with his hands shoved into the pocket of the sweatshirt Bucky had given him. Bucky looked away again quickly; he couldn’t read more in that than there was. It didn’t mean anything. Steve was Natasha’s.

“Pasta!” Bucky repeated, opening his fridge and freezer to search them both. “I have ravioli, I always have ravioli. But I also have a bag of seafood medley.”

“What’s a seafood medley?” Steve asked behind him.

Bucky grabbed the bag. “Mussels, shrimp, scallops, and calamari.”

“I’ve never had three of those things.”

Bucky looked behind him. Steve was raising his eyebrows honestly.

“I’ve had shrimp,” he said. “In a couple of ways. I like coconut shrimp.”

Bucky returned to the freezer and resumed digging. With an _Ah-ha!_ , he found a box of ready-made coconut shrimp.

“How does cheese and mushroom ravioli and coconut shrimp sound?” he asked.

“It sounds good,” Steve answered.

Bucky put the seafood medley back, pulled out the package of ravioli, and shut the freezer to head for the cupboards and find sauce.

“What sauce do you like on your pasta?” Bucky asked.

There’s no immediate answer, so Bucky turned around. Steve just shrugged in his direction.

“Let’s go with alfredo,” Bucky decided.

Steve smiled and nodded. Bucky turned around again, taking in a deep breath. This was almost too much.

“Do you want help?” Steve asked a minute later.

Bucky looked over his shoulder. Steve was sitting on the edge of his chair, hands shoved into the pocket of his borrowed sweatshirt. He looked nervous, skittish, maybe.

“Yeah,” Bucky decided impulsively. “C’mere, you can empty the dishwasher for me.”

Steve jumped up immediately, almost rushing forward to open the dishwasher. Bucky backed off, his jaw tightening. Steve obeyed so well.

“Silverware goes in that top drawer there,” Bucky said, pointing it out. “Glasses and plates and stuff go in the cupboards above the dishwasher.”

Steve settled into the task quickly. Bucky reluctantly turned back to the stove, reading the directions on the coconut shrimp.

Once or twice, Steve asked where something in particular belonged. Bucky directed him and resisted the urge to praise the hell out of him after. Steve finished the dishwasher, then without even being prompted, he started reloading it with the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Thanks, pal,” Bucky said. “When you’re done with that, why don’t you get us some drinks from the fridge?”

“Yes –” Steve started to answer, but stopped abruptly.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder. Steve resolutely didn’t look at him, but his brightly pinked cheeks were telling. Bucky swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and looked away again.

“Sure,” Steve started again, his voice quiet.

“These’ll only be a minute,” Bucky said absently.

“Okay,” Steve replied softly.

Steve sat down at the kitchen table again, two cans of La Croix in front of him. Bucky finished the coconut shrimp soon enough and transferred them onto a plate, which he put on the kitchen table in front of Steve.

“Help yourself,” he said, “the ravioli’ll be done soon.”

Steve took one, a small one, and began to nibble on it. Bucky doubled back and grabbed a shrimp himself, one of the bigger sized ones, and as he chewed and swallowed, Steve seemed to relax a little more and ate more readily. Bucky smiled to himself as he returned to the stove; Ellen, the woman he knew from Eating Disorders Anonymous, had given him a couple of tips on helping Steve relax around food. Making sure Steve didn’t feel like he was sticking out by eating alone was one of them.

Bucky dished out the ravioli and poured alfredo sauce over it. He grabbed a bag of salad from the fridge, tossed some into a couple of bowls, and casually listed dressing options to Steve. Steve picked yogurt ranch and Bucky drizzled it lightly over Steve’s salad. He put ginger on his own, then grabbed forks for them both and took the chair at the head of the table.

“Could we watch more of that cop show later?” Steve asked out of nowhere.

Bucky looked up, startled for a second. “Sure,” he said. “We could watch it now, if you wanted.”

Steve looked like he wanted to, but was hesitant to say so. Bucky grabbed his plate and salad bowl and stood up.

“C’mon, we’ll sit over here,” he said. “Can you bring the shrimp, too?”

Bucky put his dishes on the side table between his recliner and the sofa while Steve walked over with his plate, salad, and the shrimp plate balanced on his arms. Bucky doubled back to grab their drinks and as Steve sat on the corner of the sofa, Bucky dropped into the armchair.

“You’re not sitting on the couch?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked up. “Uh –” he started.

“Sorry, never mind,” Steve said quickly, “I just – I don’t want to kick you out of your spot.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky said dumbly.

“Okay,” Steve muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Bucky hesitated for a second. He mentally shook himself, told himself to stop reading too much into innocent comments, and grabbed the TV remote.

“We’ll watch it on Netflix,” Bucky said, “so you can start at the beginning this time.”

“Thanks,” Steve answered.

The plate of shrimp sat on the footrest angled between Steve and Bucky; it was another bright orange monstrosity, a cheap thing Bucky had bought in college and had yet been unable to part with. Steve put his legs on it, which put his feet within reach of Bucky, so obviously, Bucky whacked them every time Steve made a smart comment.

Slowly, but steadily, Steve ate his share of the shrimp and finished his bowl of ravioli. Bucky had slyly served him twice as much as himself, then taken fewer shrimp. According to his calculations, that meant that Steve got in an appropriate amount of calories for a single meal and completed Bucky’s objective of stuffing his gob. Natasha would not be disappointed.

Even after the food was eaten, Steve didn’t look like he wanted to leave. Though he was tired, Bucky didn’t want to make him go. 

He couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep in his chair, however. He was exhausted. He just had to hope Steve wouldn’t notice.

*

Halfway through a third episode, Bucky started snoring. Steve elected not to take it as an insult and at the end of the episode, just quietly turned off the TV. Bucky kept snoring and Steve gathered up their dishes, taking them into the kitchen and loading the dishwasher. It felt nice; Steve had always loved serving Peggy in any way possible. Even if Bucky wasn’t really his Dom, Steve still felt a little giddy about doing things for him, about what Bucky would think later when he saw what Steve had done. If he’d notice how obedient and helpful Steve could be. If he’d say he was proud of Steve for it, or maybe even praise him.

Steve cleaned up from lunch, going so far as to wash the pans Bucky had used and tidying up the kitchen after. Bucky was still folded awkwardly in the leather easy chair, snoring in a quiet, rumbly way. Steve was drawn to him again and, impulsively, he sat down on the floor next to the chair and leaned his head against Bucky’s knee, stuck out on the footrest. 

Steve shut his eyes and imagined quiet nights in where Bucky played with his hair while letting him just sit at his feet. He thought about being allowed to properly service Bucky, sexually, and Steve blushed hotly while a squirm of arousal ticked at the base of his spine. But he looked over at Bucky’s lap, where his thighs were casually spread open, and took in the bulge in his sweatpants hungrily. His mouth watered.

Bucky let out a particularly loud snort and jerked sideways, abruptly opening his eyes. Steve scrambled up and away, his face flushing hot again with embarrassment, but Bucky just groaned and rubbed at his eyes.

“Fuck, wha’ time ‘sit?” Bucky mumbled in a groggy voice.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at the cable box. “Almost three.”

“Shit,” Bucky muttered.

“You’ve got work tomorrow, don’t you?” Steve remembered. “You should go to bed, Buck.”

“Probably,” Bucky said under his breath. “I gotta stop fallin’ asleep in this chair,” he groaned, sitting upright and putting his heels down to close the footrest, “only jus’ puts a crick in my neck.”

Steve darted forward and grabbed the handle on the side of the chair, pushing it back. Bucky sat forward, rubbed at his eyes, and pushed to his feet without even noticing Steve’s proximity.

“Sorry I fell asleep on you,” Bucky mumbled. “It’s been a long day.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said quickly, “I’m glad you came back for me, either way.”

Bucky turned in Steve’s direction and smiled tiredly. Steve felt his stomach swoop and tamped down feelings of adoration.

“I’d better brush my teeth,” Bucky said almost absently as he started away. “Today’s Sunday, innit?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered.

“I don’t work Mondays anymore,” Bucky explained. “I’ll shoot you a text when I wake up, we can hang out again then, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed. “Sounds great. Let’s get you in bed, okay, Buck?”

Bucky turned back abruptly, still looking bleary, and reached out. He patted Steve’s shoulder once, squeezing it, and turned back again. Steve’s knees almost buckled. 

“You’re a great guy,” Bucky said in an almost slurred voice as he staggered towards what Steve could only assume was his bedroom; the closer of the three doors leading off the living room. “Great pal,” he mumbled, letting himself in.

Steve followed, worried that Bucky might just fall into bed and resume snoring. “You flatter me,” he said, which was true.

“Mean it wit’ my whole heart,” Bucky promised. 

Then he dropped onto the unmade king-size bed and resumed snoring. Steve heaved a sigh and grabbed Bucky’s feet to haul him at least a little closer into the center of the bed.

“Don’t you want to brush your teeth?” Steve called in a half-hearted suggestion.

Bucky waved a hand absently. “T’morrow,” he mumbled.

Steve shook his head and strafed sideways to the other side of the bed so he could pull Bucky up by the armpits towards the pillows. Bucky seemed to get what he was doing halfway there and clambered higher up the bed himself, flopping down onto his chest with his face buried in the pillow. Steve rolled him onto his side so he wouldn’t suffocate.

“Shoes,” Steve muttered under his breath, moving sideways down the bed again.

Bucky was wearing nurse’s clogs, which fortunately slipped easily off. Steve put them down by the only chest of drawers in the room, then glanced around curiously. The bedroom was fairly tidy, with little to clutter it. The walls were a pleasant shade of deep emerald green, which matched the gold-striped area rug under and around the bed. Though Bucky was lying halfway out of them, the blankets on the bed looked familiar. With a jolt, Steve realized that the comforter was the one he’d been wrapped in during his first bout of heat-sickness.

“You still there, Steve?” Bucky called abruptly.

“Yeah?” Steve answered.

Bucky pointed vaguely towards the living room. “Could you turn the lights off ‘fore you go?”

“Of course,” Steve said quickly.

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled, then smacked his lips and resettled himself in bed.

Steve forced his feet to carry him towards the door. He cast one last glance behind him, and just lingered by the door, watching Bucky shift in the bed to get comfortable. Steve, again, didn’t want to leave.

Bucky seemed to get frustrated with his position in the bed and turned over. Then he sat up a little, wiggled for a moment, then tugged off his shirt and tossed it towards the end of the bed. Steve sucked in a breath, frozen. Bucky flopped onto his other side and hugged a pillow to his now bare chest, then began his quiet, rumbly snore again.

The shirt lay in the center of the floor. Steve, impulsive, stepped forward and picked it up. He’d put it in the laundry hamper for Bucky, he told himself, he’d be helpful, useful, he reasoned.

But he couldn’t stop himself from raising the shirt to his face and inhaling deeply. It was saturated in Bucky’s scent, rich earth and woodsmoke. Steve shuddered as he breathed it in, as he rubbed it against his face and transferred a little of it against his skin.

Steve’s knees were wobbly again. He felt like crawling into the bed with Bucky, taking the place of the pillow pressed against Bucky’s chest, of lying down in Bucky’s scent and rolling in it.

But he couldn’t. Bucky might wake up, might reject him, tell him to get the hell out, what was he thinking? Steve clutched the shirt to himself, eyes wide with sudden panic, then he turned and bolted. 

Stealing Bucky’s shirt. Like an idiot.

Steve barely remembered to turn off the rest of the lights in the apartment, then returned to his floor, shutting himself in his bedroom, where he knew he’d be safe. Steve crawled into bed and buried himself in the blankets, clutching Bucky’s used T-shirt, pathetically. 

He lay there, trembling. The fear of Bucky’s rejection had hit him fast and hard. Not even once since meeting him had Bucky indicated that he’d be interested in Steve, he kept an appropriate distance between them, called him a good friend and nothing more. Steve held the shirt to his neck with white knuckles, trying desperately to control his breathing and his thoughts. He was dropping. Just by casually patting his shoulder, Bucky had reduced Steve to this, to panic and confusion and the need to please. Bucky wasn’t even Steve’s Dom.

Steve hadn’t been taken down by anyone since before the Valkyrie; he could remember vividly Peggy’s firm hand on the back of his neck, the cool feel of her loose hair, the bittersweet taste of her cunt. Peggy was still alive, but she was old, she was confined to a senior’s home, she had lost her memories. Before her – Peggy insisted that Marco hadn't truly been Steve’s master; she’d made him repeat it over and over until he believed. Peggy had been his mistress, she had owned him, she had loved him, the others hadn't. Bucky didn’t.

Steve hadn’t been brave enough to see her since waking up last October, it was now nearing September again. What would she say to him now? He’d been bad, he hadn’t served her properly, he wasn’t serving Bucky properly, he had no structure, no control. He needed discipline, rules, consequences. All he had was a stolen T-shirt and a haphazard nest that smelled almost more like Natasha than himself. Why would Bucky want to have him?

“Stupid!” Steve hissed under his breath, slapping himself in the forehead with a palm. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Peggy needed to punish him. Or Bucky. Both? Steve couldn’t think straight. He hit himself, rolled onto his side and beat his ass with his own hand, but it didn’t hurt right, and the pain wasn’t what made it better, it was the correction, the forgiveness that only came with a punishment _given._ Steve gave up, his hand and ass stinging, and just curled around the stolen T-shirt as he tried not to sob. Tears prickled at his eyes and Steve rubbed the heels of his palms into them hard rather than let the tears fall. He didn’t even deserve correction, that was plain. 

Absently, he daydreamed of Bucky swooping down from upstairs to rescue him. That miraculously, he realized that Steve needed a firm hand and he appeared from nowhere to deliver it.

Long after the setting sun cast the bedroom into darkness, Steve heard Bucky in the hallway leaving for work. Miracles wouldn’t rescue him today.

Steve finally fell into a fitful sleep. It was the best he could hope for. He dreamt of, miraculously, Peggy and Bucky both giving him the discipline and structure he craved. For the brief length of the dream, Steve was forgiven, corrected, and relieved of the burden of his own weight. He was allowed to curl up in Bucky’s lap, allowed to service him, like he’d allowed to do for Peggy before the ice. Neither of them hit him in the face to punish him, or blindfolded and tied him to a fucking bench and left him out in the open for anyone to use, or locked him in his cuffs and collar and left him alone in the dark to stew in the bad feeling, left him with harsh words shouted in anger – Peggy wouldn’t do that, Bucky wouldn’t do that. They touched him gently and told him that even good boys made mistakes sometimes, that he just needed guidance, they would take care of him.

But it was just a dream.

*

Bucky woke up on his day off without a crick in his neck from falling asleep in his chair. Which he was pretty sure he’d done. He sat up, looking around with bleary eyes. In his bedroom, not the living room. 

“Weird,” Bucky muttered. “Am I sleepwalking again?”

Obviously, his empty bedroom did not answer him back. That would have been weirder.

Bucky got out of bed and checked the living room. No Steve, though, if he had been there, that would have also been weird. Bucky turned around and went back through his bedroom, walking out of his pants and boxers and into the shower. Absently scratching his balls, Bucky turned on the spray. 

“I am a gross male stereotype,” he mused. “The second you leave me alone, I’m picking at my pubes like an ape. Wow.”

Bucky has, of course, been living on his own for – minor record scratch, it’s June, he turned thirty… seven in March, he’s 37 – about 17 years and has been scratching his balls in the shower much longer than that.

“I should get a dog,” Bucky added. “Or a sub.”

His loofah looked judgmental of him.

“A dog is much more likely,” Bucky agreed. “Or a cat. I don’t have enough time for a dog.”

His loofah now looked agreeing.

“I’ll check out shelters this weekend,” Bucky decided. “I can take care of a cat.”

Bucky, now proud of his mature decision, routinely cleaned the pipes in addition to scrubbing his pits. It wasn’t a very satisfying orgasm, but better than none at all, and the steam picks up his scent and perfumes the whole bathroom, effectively marking his territory, and that makes Bucky’s inner caveman satisfied.

After his shower, Bucky put on jogging pants and a sleeveless hoodie. And shoes, obviously. He grabbed his phone, keys, and headphones, then started downstairs.

At Steve’s door, he lingered. Bucky looked at it for a second, then figured, fuck it, and he knocked.

Bucky waited for a second, and then when there was no answer, he tried again. Another minute passed with no answer. Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, then sighed and tried the door handle. 

The door was unlocked. Bucky let it swing open and stuck his head in.

“Stevie?” he called.

Bucky hoped Steve hadn’t been called back out; he checked the street-view window, but his bike was still there. Bucky wandered into the living room, propped his hands on his hips, and looked around.

“My ma is laughing at me in heaven,” Bucky muttered.

The master bedroom door opened just then. Bucky dropped his hands as Steve poked his head out, red-eyed and disheveled.

“Stevie?” Bucky asked, immediately concerned.

“Hi,” Steve mumbled. “I’m – I’m not feeling good. I’m sorry. I’ll stay – stay here, out of the way – I’m sorry.”

Steve pulled his head back in and shut the door. Bucky blinked.

“What the fuck,” he muttered.

He heard a distant thud that was probably Steve falling into bed. Bucky stepped around the TV and knocked on Steve’s door.

“Hey, buddy,” he called, “what kinda not feelin’ good you talkin’ here? Chickenpox? Polio?”

“Can’t get polio twice,” Steve answered distantly.

“That’s chickenpox,” Bucky corrected, opening the door a crack. “I’m comin’ in, pal.”

Steve was, as he’d suspected, collapsed in bed. Opening the door, however, Bucky was assaulted by the rank stench of despair.

“Holy shit, pal,” Bucky gasped, crossing the room in two steps to grab Steve’s shoulder, “what the hell happened in here?”

Steve weakly pushed him off and rolled over in the other direction. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled, “didn’t mean to…”

And he trailed off.

“Please tell me you didn’t take more suppressants,” Bucky asked.

Steve sat bolt upright, looking horrified. “No!” he claimed, sounding appalled at the suggestion. “I swear, I haven’t touched them since the last time you told me to stop, I promise!”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky answered quickly, grabbing Steve’s arms. “Hey, c’mon up, pal, let’s get you outta this smelly room, okay?”

Steve got up slowly. “I didn’t get it anywhere else,” he said sheepishly even as he slipped off the bed.

Bucky frowned at him. “Get what anywhere else?”

Steve avoided his gaze, wringing his hands in his lap. “Smell,” he mumbled.

Bucky stared at him for a second. He let go to swipe a hand over his face, sighing. “Okay, buddy,” he said quietly. “It’s okay, kid, c’mere, let’s go sit down on the couch, alright?”

Steve nodded and followed him reluctantly. Bucky lead him back out into the living room and sat him down on the sofa.

“What happened?” Bucky asked. “Nightmare or –”

Steve pulled away from him and collapsed sideways on the sofa. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Bucky put two and two together.

“Oh, kiddo,” he gasped. “Hey, are you dropping?”

Steve nodded a little, pressing his face into the white leather. Bucky grabbed his hands and pressed them together tightly.

“It’s okay,” he promised hastily. “Hey, I’m gonna call Natasha, okay? She’s gonna come home and take care of you.”

Steve lifted his head and blinked at Bucky. “Natasha?” he mumbled.

Bucky slowed halfway to his phone. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, of course, she’ll come right away. Right?”

Steve shrugged and put his face back in the sofa cushion. “‘S okay,” he mumbled, “I understand.”

“I don’t understand,” Bucky muttered, but tugged out his phone and dialed Natasha.

She answered after two rings.

_“Is it Rogers?”_

“He’s dropping,” Bucky started without preamble. “And, uh, it’s bad, I think it’s been happening since last night.”

_“Okay,”_ Natasha sighed. _“So take care of him! He trusts you, you’re a Dom, deal with it!”_

“Romanoff, your sub is dropping!” Bucky hissed into the phone. “Don’t you fucking care?”

_“Rogers isn’t my sub,”_ Natasha snapped.

Bucky reeled. “What?”

_“I don’t even think Rogers recognizes me as a Domme, moron,”_ Natasha added. _“As a matter of fact, he prefers you and you happen to be there, so take care of him! What am I gonna do in Chile, for fuck’s sake? Take care of him!”_

She hung up. Bucky put his phone away slowly. Steve didn’t seem to register that the phone call had even happened.

“Uh,” Bucky said. “Steve? Natasha’s not your Domme?”

Steve shook his head.

“Who is your Dom?” Bucky asked without thinking.

Steve started shaking. Bucky practically hit himself and lifted up onto the couch to sit next to him and set a hand between his shoulder blades, trying to stabilize him.

“I ain’t seen her!” Steve hissed into the sofa. “I’ve been awake for a year and I haven’t been to see her!”

“Who?” Bucky asked.

“Peggy,” Steve whined.

Bucky thought back to the American History units he almost flunked in school. “Peggy Carter?” he guessed.

Steve nodded.

Bucky almost asked if she was still alive and then metaphorically shoved a sock in his mouth. He winced a little, then sighed and touched Steve’s hair. Steve sucked in a breath.

“How about you come up to my place?” Bucky suggested quietly. “Okay? You can tell me what’s going through your head and I’ll try to make you feel better, and when you are feeling better, we can talk about Peggy, okay?”

Steve reached out almost clumsily. Bucky caught his hand and Steve pulled himself up, kneeling on the couch, and he hiccuped once before leaning full-bodied into Bucky. Bucky caught him and held him in a hug. Steve pushed his face into Bucky’s neck and Bucky let him do it without hesitating. Steve held on tightly.

“Let’s go upstairs, pal,” Bucky suggested quietly. 

Steve nodded into his neck. Bucky eased himself off the sofa, then gently pulled Steve up.

“C’mon,” he murmured.

Steve went with him. Bucky led him out of the apartment and carefully up the stairs. He paused to unlock and open up his front door, and walked Steve back towards the sofa.

“Why don’t you sit down, kiddo?” Bucky prompted gently.

Steve peered at the couch, his cheek still smashed against Bucky’s shoulder. He looked reluctant to let go. 

“Do you wanna sit on the couch?” Bucky prompted.

Steve started to pull away, his face crestfallen. “If you want me to, sir,” he whispered.

Bucky caught his elbows and pulled him back, his heart suddenly hammering as Steve’s murmured _Sir_ echoed in his head. Steve grabbed onto his shirt as Bucky pulled him back; he even whined, clutching to Bucky again.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, “I want you to listen to me, okay? If you don’t want something, you gotta tell me. You understand?”

Steve hesitated. He hid his face from Bucky again and mumbled something.

“What was that?” Bucky prompted gently.

“Was bad,” Steve said, just barely audible. “Bad boys don’t get what they want.”

Bucky floundered for a second. “Was that Peggy’s rule?” he asked slowly, unsure of how to respond; even if it was Peggy’s rule, Bucky would rather cry bullshit than leave this poor kid miserable because he’d misbehaved in some minute way.

But Steve shook his head.

“Okay,” Bucky started over, instead of trying to figure out whose rule it was. “Alright, then, that’s not your Peggy’s rule, it’s not my rule either, okay? You’re gonna get what you need whether you been good or you misbehaved, and let’s be clear, Stevie, you ain’t been a bad boy as far as I know.”

Steve whimpered softly, shaking his head. “Didn’t see Ma’am,” he mumbled, “didn’t serve her right, I was bad, bad Stevie, stupid –”

“Hey,” Bucky cut him off and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back so Steve will look at him. “None of that,” he said firmly, “you don’t get to call yourself those mean things, you understand?”

Steve looked at him with wide eyes. Bucky reached up and touched his cheek.

“You’re a good boy,” he said quietly.

Steve let out a sharp breath, his chin and lower lip started to tremble. He shook his head. Bucky cupped his face with both hands.

“You’re a good boy,” he repeated gently. “You’re sweet and kind-hearted, you’re helpful and obedient, you hear me? Sweet boys don’t call themselves nasty words, do they?”

Slowly, Steve shook his head again.

“Do you think you’re bad because you haven’t seen Peggy?” Bucky then asked. “Or is there something more?”

Steve inhaled and worked his mouth, but couldn’t say anything. Bucky gave a quick nod.

“It’s okay,” he said, “don’t get worked up over it right now. We can talk about your Mistress when you’re more clear-headed, okay?”

Steve nodded, breathing quickly still. Bucky reached up and touched his hair, thinking about what to do next.

“Do you think you should be punished for not seeing your Mistress?” he asked quietly.

Steve looked like he might break in relief as he grabbed onto Bucky’s shirt. “Yes,” he gasped, “please, sir, please punish me, I don’t wanna be bad –”

“You’re not bad,” Bucky reminded him quickly, “you’re not a bad boy, Stevie, you’ve just been scared, right? You weren’t feeling good so you tried to stay home, just like you told me earlier, right?”

Steve blinked at him for a moment, then, he nodded a little.

“You were just nervous,” Bucky insisted, “sometimes, being nervous makes us too cautious and we make mistakes. Doesn’t make you a bad boy, sweetheart.”

The endearment came out without his meaning to. But as he said it, Steve hiccuped a little noise of desperation and surged forward to cling to Bucky again. Bucky caught him and held onto his back, his hair, held him securely. Steve was shaking.

“Do you want me to call you that?” Bucky asked. “Was that okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve whispered, “yes, call me your sweetheart, sir, I want it, I want to be yours.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “You – you want to be _my_ sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve whimpered into his neck. “Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you tell me to, I’ll be a good sweetheart, sir!”

Bucky had no fucking clue what to do with that. He held onto Steve tightly, but privately, he was afraid Steve was only saying these things because he was dropping. If Steve didn’t mean it, Bucky couldn’t make any promises, but even if he didn’t, he might be upset if Bucky didn’t tell him that he could be his sweetheart. He just wanted to be a good boy, Bucky knew.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re clear-headed,” Bucky said at last. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, not while you’re like this.”

Steve whimpered a little. “Please, sir?” he begged softly.

Bucky, holding onto the back of Steve’s head, turned and pressed a kiss to his hair. “You need to mean it,” he said gently, “but I know, I know you’d be a good boy for me, Stevie. I’d like you to be mine, too.”

Steve sniffed a little and rubbed his face against Bucky’s neck. Bucky dropped his hand to the back of Steve’s neck and squeezed it. Steve sighed and went limp.

“Do you want to sit on the couch?” Bucky asked again.

“No, sir,” Steve mumbled.

“Where do you want to be?” Bucky asked.

“Bed, sir,” Steve said. “Wanna be in your bed, sir.”

Bucky mouthed a quick prayer for some personal constraint. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go into my bedroom, okay?”

Steve nodded. He withdrew from Bucky’s neck just enough to get his feet under him and leaned on Bucky as Bucky started walking them towards his room. By his bed, Bucky turned and took Steve’s elbows.

“Sit down,” he said.

Steve sank down onto the mattress, his face downcast. Bucky touched his chin with a finger and lifted his face up gently.

“Do you want to be punished now or later?” Bucky asked, almost hoping he’d choose later.

“Now,” Steve said quickly, “please, sir.”

Bucky gave a quick nod, thinking fast. “Okay,” he said. “How – How would Miss Carter punish you?”

“Hairbrush,” Steve mumbled. “Spank me with – with a hairbrush.”

“Would she hit you hard or gently?” Bucky added.

“Hard,” Steve said, squirming a little in his seat.

“Alright,” Bucky answered. “Okay, honey.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned forward. Bucky stepped in and pulled Steve against his stomach, letting him rest his head just below his sternum.

“I don’t have a hairbrush good for spanking,” Bucky said softly, “but I’ve got a paddle, nice wooden one. Does that sound like a good punishment, sweetheart?”

“If – if you think so, sir,” Steve mumbled.

“I want to know what you think,” Bucky reminded him.

“I –” Steve started. “I think so, yes, sir.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky pressed. “I won’t do anything you’re not sure of, kiddo.”

“I’m sure,” Steve said. “I need to be punished, sir.”

“Okay,” Bucky repeated. He leaned down and kissed Steve’s hair. “Okay. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to lie down on the side of the bed with your feet and knees on the floor, however’s comfortable. I’ll spank you in that position. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered, his voice relieved.

Bucky let Steve pull back and move. Steve turned around, then leaned down and rested his torso on the bed, his legs bending naturally at the knee as the tops of his feet rested on the rug. Bucky walked around with him and set a hand on the back of his neck, looking at his legs.

“I can’t spank you hard if you’re wearing pants,” Bucky said aloud. “I’m going to give you a choice. You can take a hard spanking if you’re comfortable pulling down your pants or I can give you a lighter one. Which do you need?”

“Hard, sir,” Steve answered.

Bucky gave a nod. “Then pull your pants down, Stevie. Just past your bottom.”

Steve pushed up. Without hesitation, he shoved the pajama pants he was wearing down, pushed away the briefs he was wearing under them, and pushed them both halfway down his thighs. Bucky looked away as he caught a glimpse of Steve’s cock and Steve settled on the edge of the bed again, his bare ass sticking out. Bucky looked.

His ass was fucking gorgeous.

“Wait here,” Bucky said quietly, resisting the urge to touch.

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered, just as soft, as Bucky headed for the closet.

Bucky cast a single glance over his shoulder, then focused his attention on what he was doing. He was Dom’ing a friend; he’d done this before, he could control himself and focus on what Steve needed. Steve didn’t need Bucky’s half-chub struggling to make it to full-mast, Steve didn’t need his wild thoughts, racing around, asking questions about which Steve might later prefer, pain or light domination, hard bondage or aesthetic shibari; Steve only needed to feel forgiven. Steve only needed Bucky’s help to get past his drop, his hand, wielding a paddle.

Bucky opened the closet and switched on the light. Inside, he had clothes hanging up on the one half, and the other taken up by his gear. He had some toys, a couple of paddles, a flogger that he bought to learn how to use and then never used it on anyone other than himself. He didn’t do a lot of impact play, he preferred softer methods of correction.

But he had one wooden paddle. Bucky picked it up and brushed off the dust. He didn’t play with partners very often, clearly. But he had sensitive-formula disinfectant wipes hand and pulled one out to clean off the paddle as he left the closet with it; he discarded the used wipe in a wastebasket by his desk. Turning again, Bucky came face-to-ass with Steve.

“We’re gonna use stoplights for now,” Bucky told him, taking two careful steps closer. “Can you tell me what that means?”

Steve nodded once, then didn’t say anything.

“Use your words, buddy,” Bucky prompted him.

“Red, yellow, green,” Steve said quickly, “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky answered, frowning more as he took another step in. “Hey, I don’t want you to apologize for not speaking up right away, okay, Stevie?”

Steve whimpered softly. Bucky came up right beside him then and lowered himself to one knee, just behind him. It would be all too easy to rest a hand on Steve’s ass there, touch him gently and start to bring the blood to his skin, warm him up. He didn’t.

“Steve?” Bucky said. “I need you to answer me on that, buddy. It’s okay if you’re shy and you don’t talk, I won’t mind, but I don’t want you feelin’ like not answerin’ me right away is a bad thing.”

“Speak when spoken to,” Steve said under his breath. “Answer what you’re asked. Be quick, shut up when you’re not wanted.”

Bucky blinked at him. Steve kept his cheek pressed into the bedspread, eyes squeezed shut, like he was wincing.

“Whose rule is that?” Bucky asked him.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Honey, I gotta know who told you that,” Bucky repeated, “‘cause it don’t sound like a nice rule an’ I don’t think your Miss Carter gave you rules that weren’t nice. I don’t like rules that are mean like that.”

Steve whimpered again. He lifted his hands behind his back, grabbed his wrists and held on. “I’m sorry,” he said again, then, so much quieter, “Mister Ronan.”

“Ronan?” Bucky repeated, frowning again. “He told you not to talk ‘til you were asked a question?”

Steve just nodded.

Bucky heaved a hard breath, glancing around as he thought. He worked his jaw, then set the paddle down and leaned on the bed next to Steve. Steve looked in his direction, but didn’t meet his eye, just looked somewhere around Bucky’s shoulder. He was shifting on his knees, twisting his hands, there was a crease between his eyebrows.

“Hey, honey,” Bucky said gently, “can you look at me?”

Steve lowered himself to his knees and turned his head, letting his cheek still rest against the edge of the mattress. He looked lost.

“This Ronan guy,” Bucky prompted, “he wasn’t nice to you, was he?”

Steve blinked, then shook his head.

“So why’re you still followin’ his rules?” Bucky asked.

“I don’ know,” Steve mumbled.

“Okay,” Bucky repeated, “okay, so here’s what I’m thinkin’, doll.”

Steve let out another soft whine, squirming on his knees. Bucky reached over and gently rested his hand over the back of Steve’s neck. Steve let his breath out completely, his shoulders dropped, he sagged against the bed.

“What did Miss Carter tell you ‘bout Ronan’s rules?” Bucky asked then.

Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“Did she like his rules?” Bucky added.

Steve shook his head at that.

“I bet’chu can tell I don’t like ‘em neither,” Bucky offered, “‘cause you’re a smart cookie, ain’t’chu, doll?”

Steve’s cheeks turned pink immediately; he turned his head and hid his face from view with a little whine of embarrassment. Bucky smiled in response and edged closer, slipping closer to Steve, curling his hand into Steve’s hair gently.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice, “hey, now, kiddo, it’s okay you’re shy, but I wanna see your eyes, Stevie. Need to see what you’re thinkin’ in there.”

He tapped the back of Steve’s neck. Steve lifted his head and turned it back to look at Bucky, still blushing. Bucky thought, this would be a perfect opportunity to tell him how pretty his eyes are. He held his tongue.

“So, we clear, buddy?” Bucky asked him. “I don’t mind that you’re shy, Stevie, it’s no problem if it takes you a minute to answer or if you don’t answer at all. What I do mind is you feelin’ bad if you’re shy or take a while to think. Okay?”

Steve nodded.

“Can you say it back to me?” Bucky added. “So I know you understand, sweetheart?”

Steve nodded a second time. “I – I can not answer,” he said quietly. “It’s okay if I’m shy. I can take my time to answer you.”

“There, that’s exactly what I said,” Bucky replied with a smile, “good boy, Stevie.”

Steve shifted on his knees, his eyes widening, and his lower lip sucking between his teeth. Bucky swept his hand up Steve’s neck, into his hair, and settled it again, squeezing gently and briefly. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out his breath rapidly.

“I’m gonna give you your punishment now,” Bucky continued, still speaking softly. “Here’s the deal. You’re gettin’ this punishment ‘cause you made a mistake, Stevie, not ‘cause you was bad. Remember that when we’re scared, sometimes we make mistakes, not ‘cause we meant to, you understand?”

Steve gave another nod.

“Can you say it back?” Bucky prompted again.

“I made a mistake,” Steve repeated, “‘cause I messed up ‘cause I was scared.”

“No, no, you didn’t mess up, honey,” Bucky said quickly, “you made a mistake, that’s different, you understand?”

Steve sucked in a breath, blinking hard, and Bucky saw tears clinging to his lashes.

“Be honest with me,” Bucky added, still hasty.

Steve’s lower lip trembled and he shook his head. “Bad’s bad,” he mumbled, “I was bad –”

“You weren’t bad,” Bucky tried to insist.

“I was bad!” Steve shouted. “I didn’t – I didn’t go see her, I didn’t serve her right, I didn’t serve you right –”

“When’d you serve –” Bucky started, then cut himself off. “Honey,” he exhaled.

Steve whimpered a little again, turned his face away and hid it in the blankets. Bucky picked up the paddle again, letting out his breath, and squeezed the back of Steve’s neck.

“It’s okay if you were bad on accident,” Bucky told him, “accident’s an accident, doll, I wouldn’t be mad an’ I’m sure Miss Carter ain’t mad, neither. Either way, accidents still hafta be punished, huh, Stevie?”

Steve nodded hastily, sniffling. Bucky gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, gentle, but firm.

“So you’re gonna take your punishment and it’ll be over,” Bucky continued, “you’ll be forgiven. Do you understand, Steve?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve murmured.

Bucky brushed his hand through Steve’s hair one more time and pushed up to his feet, letting go of Steve. He walked around to his other side, then rested his left hand on Steve’s shoulder, lifting the paddle with his right.

“You’re gonna get ten,” Bucky decided. “That sound fair, kiddo?”

Steve nodded once, inhaling through his nose, sniffing hard. Bucky stroked his shoulder with his left hand, wishing he could feel more with it; not with the nerve damage from Iraq. 

“I’ll count for you,” Bucky added. “I’m gonna give you a lil’ warm-up first, I don’t want you bruisin’ a lot.”

“Don’t bruise,” Steve mumbled. “Serum.”

Bucky paused, then shook his head. “Just ‘cause the serum heals it ‘fore it has a chance to turn purple, don’t mean it won’t hurt. I ain’t hurtin’ you, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Steve answered. “Yes, sir.”

“Doin’ good so far,” Bucky continued and Steve left out a breath. “Keep bein’ good for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve repeated softly.

Bucky took the paddle and ran it over Steve’s ass. He’d avoided looking at his ass until now, he still felt uncomfortable looking at his bare skin, not when they hadn't talked shit about something like this before. Bucky focused on his asscheeks, angled himself so he couldn’t see Steve from the front, keeping some of Steve’s modesty intact. He took the paddle and ran it over Steve’s skin, slow and steady, warming up the wood as much as he was warming up Steve’s ass.

“Doin’ good,” Bucky repeated in a gentle voice. “You’re nice an’ still, Stevie, that’s good, I’m proud of you.”

Steve’s breathing got heavier and heavier as Bucky progressed from caressing his ass with the paddle to light thumps; tapping the broad blade of wood against the meatier parts of his ass, soft hits to bring more blood to the surface. Bucky kept his focus on Steve’s bottom and nothing else, didn’t stray lower to his thighs, didn’t go between them, certainly didn’t let his hand touch him. Though, he’d have to use his hand to give him bruise cream after. Bucky wouldn’t think about that yet.

“How’s it feel, kiddo?” Bucky asked.

“Good, sir,” Steve said in a mildly slurred voice.

Bucky gave a nod and let his arm increase the pressure with which he was thumping Steve’s ass. A few light hits and by then, his skin was a gorgeous shade of pink.

“You’re ready,” Bucky deemed. “What d’you think, huh, kid? Ready for the hard hitter?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied right away, “please, thank you, sir.”

“Alright,” Bucky said, stretching his left hand forward to cover the back of Steve’s neck. “Okay, baby.”

Steve whimpered. Bucky bit his tongue, scolding himself the slip, but couldn’t take it back. He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck, then braced the paddle across both asscheeks, ready to raise his hand.

“Okay,” Bucky repeated quietly.

He drew his arm back and let the paddle strike Steve’s ass with a resounding crack. Steve gasped and then he was rocking his hips back, sticking his ass out, and Bucky put the paddle down quickly in order to grab the front of his pants and readjust himself, as in response to Steve’s breathy moan, he’d gotten very suddenly and very painfully hard. He didn’t have time to feel guilty, he just picked the paddle back up and braced it.

“That’s one,” Bucky said. “You’re doin’ good so far, Stevie, you’re doin’ good.”

“Please, sir,” Steve whispered.

Bucky let the paddle hit him again. Steve gasped once more, stuck his ass out, and flexed his hands on his wrists behind his back. 

“Two,” Bucky said, raising his arm.

Steve gasped aloud for every strike. He stuck his ass out, clenched his hands, whimpered when the paddle left his skin. Bucky let him rest after five, just ran the wood over his hot skin, before moving on to six. When he was ready to give Steve his tenth and final hit, Bucky found himself hesitating.

“You’re getting this punishment because you made a mistake,” Bucky reiterated. “It was an accident, you didn’t mean to, and I can’t say if it made you a bad boy in the moment or not, Stevie, but if it were up to me, I wouldn’t blame you. Even still, accidents need to be forgiven. This is it. You understand?”

“Please, sir,” Steve answered him.

Bucky let the paddle fall on his ass the last time. Steve bit off his gasp, whimpering, and his arms started to visibly tremble. Bucky put down the paddle and grabbed Steve’s wrists, one in each hand, to guide them out from behind his back. Steve went limp against the mattress, his arms falling uselessly at his sides.

“You’re forgiven, kiddo,” Bucky said gently. “It’s over, you took your punishment like a good boy an’ now you’re forgiven. You feel better, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Steve exhaled. “Yes, sir.”

Bucky picked the paddle up and pushed to his feet. “I’m gonna grab something to put on your skin t’a help with that sting, then you ‘n’ me are gonna lie down and take a nap, alright, Stevie?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve repeated softly.

Bucky took the paddle back into the closet and hung it up. He grabbed a jar of bruise cream from a shelf and walked back out, keeping his eyes averted from Steve’s exposed skin. He knelt down behind him and opened the jar, then dipped his fingers in and got a glob of the cream onto his hand. He scraped it into his palm and rubbed it together between his hands for a second, then lifted them and hovered them over Steve’s ass.

“I’m gonna put this lotion on you,” Bucky said. “Is that okay, Steve?”

“Yessir,” Steve mumbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Bucky told him, “you’re a good boy, Stevie, you really are; you just need help stayin’ on course.”

Steve let his breath out hard. Bucky brushed the cream against Steve’s skin, then slowly transferred it from his own hands to Steve’s ass, rubbing it in gently. Bucky hadn’t actually hit him very hard and even if Steve had been a regular person, Bucky would’ve doubted there’d be bad bruising, but the cream was part of his own aftercare routine; he couldn’t skip it. When he’d rubbed all the lotion into Steve’s brightly colored skin, Bucky screwed the lid back on the jar and leaned to the side to put it on the nightstand. Then he pushed up on his knees, shuffling forward and to the side, and leaned against the mattress next to Steve. He put his hand on the back of Steve’s neck again.

“Can you look at me, doll?” Bucky prompted.

Steve shifted his head, putting his cheek against the mattress to look Bucky in the eye. He still looked a little lost, but now there was haziness in his eyes, not just desperation. He looked better, certainly, but Bucky doubted he was fine.

“We’re gonna lie down and cuddle for a while,” Bucky told him, “‘cause in my house, good boys get to have nice warm naps in bed with their daddies when they’ve been good, alright?”

Steve nodded slowly. He didn’t even react to Bucky’s choice of words, which, again, had been a slip.

“When you feel a little clearer, we’ll talk about what happened,” Bucky continued. “How’s your ass feel?”

Steve just nodded again, but he smiled.

“Good?” Bucky prompted.

Steve nodded a third time, still smiling. Bucky smiled back at him.

“That’s good,” he murmured. “You’re a sweet boy, yannow that, kiddo?”

Steve blushed and hid his face. Bucky took a leap and moved in closer, draping his whole arm over Steve’s shoulders.

“I think you’re adorable,” Bucky said quietly, “you’re so helpful, you listen real good, honey, you’re a good boy. You just need a man to guide you, ain’t that right?”

Steve lifted his head, just enough to look at Bucky. Still smiling shyly, he nodded. Bucky ruffled his hair a little.

“Okay,” he said, pushing up. “I’m gonna help you pull your pants back up, then we’re gonna lie down, Stevie. Remind me what you say in order to get me to back off?”

“Red,” Steve answered.

“How ‘bout if you just need a second to take things in?” Bucky prompted.

“Yellow,” Steve replied.

“And if you’re feelin’ fine an’ great?” Bucky finished.

“Green,” Steve said with a smile.

“Can you pick one’a those colors for me, now, huh?” Bucky asked him.

“Green,” Steve repeated, still smiling sweetly.

Bucky gave him a smile as well and ruffled his hair again. “Okay,” he repeated, moving behind him, “let’s get you dressed.”

Steve hardly moved to help him, but Bucky was able to pull Steve’s underwear and sweats back up and get them situated without having to touch anything other than his clothes. He felt better with Steve covered again. Then, Bucky stood up and climbed past Steve onto the bed. He patted the spot next to him.

“Why don’t you come join me, sweetheart?” he offered.

Steve pushed up from the floor and crawled onto the bed. It was unmade, so it was easy for Bucky to coax Steve under the covers. Steve put his head down on Bucky’s pillow, wrapping the blanket around him, then Bucky lay down next to him and held out his arms.

“You wanna cuddle?” he offered.

Steve blushed, but shuffled forward into Bucky’s arms. He chose to face Bucky, putting his face against Bucky’s chest. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, giving him a firm embrace, then, gentle, he pressed a kiss to Steve’s hair.

“Good boy,” he murmured. “Such a sweet boy.”

Steve shivered. He tucked his head under Bucky’s chin, curling up into a tight position, and let out a long sigh.

“We’re just gonna lie here,” Bucky said quietly. “You wanna talk about what happened, Stevie? You can if you want, but if you don’t, you can just cuddle with me, we can just lie here ‘n’ enjoy bein’ still ‘n’ quiet. You wanna talk?”

Steve shook his head. He stretched an arm over Bucky’s waist, then squirmed in his arms and one of his knees pushed at Bucky’s thighs. Bucky rolled a little, turning onto his side, and lifted his leg a little. Steve shoved his knee between Bucky’s legs, tightened his arm around his waist, and nuzzled his face against Bucky’s throat.

Bucky tightened his jaw and swallowed. He swept a hand into Steve’s hair and brushed it back, then settled his hand at the nape of Steve’s neck, holding but not squeezing. Steve exhaled deeply again.

“How ‘bout I tell you ‘bout my day?” Bucky suggested.

Steve nodded.

“Right,” Bucky started, thinking back, then he laughed. “I, uh, I’d just gotten up a little while ‘fore I found you. Got out of bed, took a shower, headed downstairs for a run, stopped to check up on you.”

“I’m sorry –” Steve started to reply immediately after, but Bucky hushed him quickly.

“Don’t be sorry, Stevie,” he said, “don’t be sorry. What’re you apologizin’ for?”

Steve shifted, making an uncomfortable noise. Bucky quickly petted his hair and dropped his chin to press it against Steve’s head.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said softly. “Was it one’a Ronan’s rules? That’s what you’re worried about?”

Steve didn’t answer right away, but he whined. He whined and dropped his head, his stubbled jaw cutting against Bucky’s throat. 

“You can tell me,” Bucky encouraged. “I bet Miss Carter wanted to hear, too, ‘cause this Ronan guy, he sounds like a real scumbag, honey.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured.

“What’d he tell you, Stevie?” Bucky asked. “Huh? Did he tell you not to speak up if you were in trouble?”

Steve lifted one shoulder. “Sorta,” he mumbled. “Said – Don’t interrupt.”

Bucky let out his breath. “Hey,” he answered gently, “I want you to interrupt what I’m doin’ whenever you need me, pal. Whatever, I don’t care what’s goin’ on, you need me, I’m right here.”

Steve’s breath hitched.

“I’m right here,” Bucky repeated, shaking Steve gently. “You come upstairs or you pick up the phone or you put it on fuckin’ Iron Man’s tower, you hear me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Steve whispered, “yes, sir.”

Bucky pressed a firm kiss to Steve’s hair. “Never think you can’t talk to me,” he insisted. “I bet Miss Carter told you the same thing, huh?”

Steve nodded against his neck. “I – I forget sometimes, she said it was okay –”

“It is okay,” Bucky assured him quickly. “I bet Miss Carter kept remindin’ you an’ I’ll promise you, I’ll keep remindin’ you as well.”

Steve nodded again. He relaxed, going limp in Bucky’s arms. Bucky let his cheek rest against Steve’s hair again, resisting the urge to kiss him again. 

But maybe. When Steve felt better, they could talk. Maybe Bucky had been underestimating the way Steve looked at him. Maybe Natasha meant Steve preferred _him_ as a Dom because Steve wanted to be his sub. They could talk.

It would be wonderful if Steve wanted to be Bucky’s. But that was a question for the future, and right now, Steve was falling asleep with his knee jammed at just the right angle under Bucky’s balls. Bucky took a few deep breaths and told his dick to cool its jets. Now wasn’t the time, now wasn’t okay. 

“Sir?” Steve whispered.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Bucky answered.

Steve squirmed even closer somehow. “Was I good?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Bucky told him. “You’re a real good boy.”

He felt Steve smile. He smelled like peace now. Like Nana Barnes’s kitchen around Christmas, when she made gingerbread houses for him and his siblings and cousins to decorate. Cinnamon and sugar and cloves, and if Bucky inhaled hard enough, he imagined he could smell Nana’s baklava baking under the gingerbread.

“You’re real special, Stevie,” Bucky murmured in a soft voice. “Probably the sweetest boy I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Steve smiled even more, his cheek scraping Bucky’s clavicle. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered back.

“‘Course,” Bucky murmured into Steve’s hair.

Steve rubbed his cheek against Bucky’s skin more, then fell still. Bucky listened to and felt him breathe while in the background, a clock ticked. Bucky started to doze off, then Steve slipped a hand under his shirt and settled it on his back.

“Thank you,” he said again. “Daddy.”

Bucky almost choked. He swallowed hard and put every ounce of concentration into keeping himself from reacting.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said.

Fuck, did he want to be Steve’s daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _steve deserves all the cuddles and bucky just wants to give it to him_


	10. Pity Party

#  _10: Pity Party_

  


Steve woke up groggy. He felt loose-limbed all over, his shoulders and knees useless, his head was particularly heavy. He felt both exhausted and better rested than he’d ever been in his life. More than all of that, he felt warm. 

He could smell Bucky; nothing but Bucky. Around him, surrounding him, under and on top of him. Steve felt Bucky’s arms around him and their legs were tangled together; one of Steve’s was pinned between Bucky’s. Steve’s hand was under Bucky’s shirt. It was resting against his ribcage, his wrist was limp, his whole body was limp. He felt heavy and sleepy and warm. 

He felt like post-subspace. Like Peggy had quieted his head and he’d slept it off. But Peggy wasn’t there, Bucky was. Steve’s memory since going to bed the night before was hazy, but he felt safe _._ He didn’t want to bother opening his eyes, he wanted just to fall asleep again, to ease back into the warmth and comfort of Bucky’s arms, so he wouldn’t have to think about how he got there. And when he’d have to leave.

Then Bucky lifted the arm from his waist and brushed at his hair. Steve squeezed his eyes shut tighter and increased his grip on Bucky’s torso, pressing closer. That safe feeling was fragile suddenly. Steve didn’t want to get up.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured in a gentle voice. “How’re you feelin’, kiddo?”

Steve wondered if maybe he didn’t answer, maybe Bucky might think he was still asleep. So he kept his mouth shut.

“Stevie?” Bucky murmured again.

Steve sucked in a breath, holding back a whimper. Bucky cupped the back of his head then and Steve felt his cheek pressing against his hair.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Bucky said quietly. “You don’t wanna talk? You shy on me, honey?”

Steve did whimper. Bucky turned his head and Steve felt lips pressing against his hair.

“It’s okay,” he repeated gently. “Tell you what, you can just nod or shake your head. You feel better?”

Bucky’s hand combed through his hair. Steve was relaxed, he felt rested, he felt safe. He’d been none of those things yesterday, after leaving Bucky’s apartment with the stolen T-shirt, he’d been none of those things when he’d woken up next. But he felt safe now. So he nodded.

“That’s good,” Bucky said softly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, kiddo. When you feel like talking, we gotta discuss a couple’a things, okay?”

There it was. Steve’s heart sunk and he bit his tongue hard to keep himself from letting out a choked sob. He didn’t want to hear what Bucky had to say, he didn’t want to hear his gentle rejection, the explanation that whatever had happened earlier, it had all been out of pity. Steve’s ass felt amazingly sore, like Bucky had given him the punishment he’d been craving. Bucky had to have done it because Steve and his misery were stinking up the whole building, of course he pitied him. Steve just didn’t want to hear it.

So he pulled away from Bucky. Twisted out of Bucky’s arms and half-fell, half-stumbled off the bed. Bucky sat upright as Steve got up, he called out: “Hey, where’re you going?” and Steve just shook his head as he staggered a little towards the exit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll go away, it won’t happen again.”

Steve heard Bucky scrambling out of the bed but carried on, determined to get out before Bucky could stop him. He didn’t want pity. He didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted. He’d apologize to Clint for leaving, Clint had been so kind as to offer him an apartment, but Steve couldn’t live below Bucky anymore, he couldn’t let this happen again. Maybe he could get a place to himself, he’d have to go out of the city. Maybe he could live out in the middle of nowhere, have no neighbors for miles, no risk of anyone stumbling across his drops and miserable heats.

Steve grabbed the doorknob to exit the room and Bucky grabbed his arms, pulling him back. Steve still felt like his joints were jellied and he didn’t have the energy to resist. Bucky turned him around, so Steve stared at the ground between them.

“Hey,” Bucky said, soft again, “hey, kiddo, look at me, pal?”

Steve shook his head.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky asked.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and just shook his head again. He sucked in a heavy breath and covered his face with a hand.

“Did I hurt you?” Bucky asked then; he sounded panicked.

“No!” Steve said quickly, dropping his hand and almost looking up. “No, you didn’t – It was wonderful, it was more’n I deserved –”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Bucky interrupted him gently. “More than you _deserved?_ Who put that thought in your head, Steve? Huh? What’s got you thinkin’ you don’t deserve a lil’ basic kindness?”

Steve sucked in a hard breath, almost choking on it. He covered his face again, trying to just ground himself, tamp down his emotions. He didn’t feel safe anymore. No, reality had kicked him in the pants and now he was being reminded of the fact that no one wanted him.

“Is this about not seeing Miss Carter?” Bucky added. “‘Cause I punished you for that, Steve, we talked about that, you made a mistake ‘cause you were scared –”

“No,” Steve cut him off, “no, not – not that, I – I mean, I still feel awful for not going to see her, but I know it’s not – It doesn’t make me _bad –_ ”

“So what is it?” Bucky prompted him.

Steve shook his head and tried to pull away. Bucky grabbed onto him tighter, though, pulling him right back. Steve could bend steel, break iron, crush gold between his fingers and have it squish out like putty, but suddenly he couldn’t break free from the grip of one ordinary man.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t –” Steve started, voice a low hiss, “I don’t want your _pity._ ”

“Why not?” Bucky pressed.

Steve felt like something in him just snapped.

“I don’t want you to help me out of pity!” he shouted. “I don’t want a charity Dom, alright, you don’t care and I don’t want you wasting your time on me when you don’t want to!”

Bucky blinked. Steve covered his face with both hands, not wanting to see the moment that Bucky would let go of him. He was breathing so hard, for a second, he almost panicked himself into an asthma attack. He thought his lungs would trip up on him, fail and leave him gasping for air. He wheezed a little, but it wasn’t his lungs. His lungs were perfect, it was all in his head.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky whispered then.

Steve felt himself being pulled in. Bucky’s arms wrapped around him, his right hand settled in Steve’s hair and guided his head down towards Bucky’s shoulder while the left curled around his back, resting at his waist. Bucky hugged him tightly.

“I’m not pitying you,” Bucky murmured. “I want to take care of you.”

Steve hiccuped, choking on an inhale. “No, you don’t,” he insisted.

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky answered. “I wanna take care’a you, treat you right, treat you like the sweet boy you are, give you the praise ‘n’ affection an’ discipline you need. I want you to need it from me.”

“N–no,” Steve hiccuped again, “yuh–you’re lying, don’ lie t’a me!”

“I’m not lying,” Bucky replied softly. “Do you wanna be mine, Stevie?”

Steve’s breath was shuddering, his whole body was shaking, he was hyperventilating and Bucky’s hand was just drifting up and down his side slowly, caressing him gently.

“Do you want to be my boy, Steve?” Bucky asked him again.

Feeling numb, Steve nodded against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky turned his head and kissed Steve’s hair.

“Good boy,” he murmured. “Such a sweet boy.”

Steve hesitated, then pushed his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. He turned his head and tucked his face into Bucky’s neck, nuzzling against him when he found bare skin. Bucky set a hand on the nape of his neck and squeezed gently. Steve, with a shuddering sigh, went lax against him.

“There now,” Bucky whispered to him. “I know you need to be taken care of, sweetheart, and I wanna be the one that does it for you. I wanna give you your orders and praise you when you complete them perfectly, ‘cause you’re such a smart boy, you’re so helpful an’ kind and obedient, ain’t’chu?”

Steve nodded, hiccuping again.

“An’ you’re such a needy little boy,” Bucky kept going. “You know how much that affects me, kiddo? You know how much _I_ need to take care’a you when you got those big blue eyes jus’ beggin’ for Daddy to hold you?”

“Daddy?” Steve repeated clumsily.

“Or just Sir,” Bucky added. “Whatever you need from me, that’s what I’ll be.”

“I’m –” Steve started, “I’m not little – I’m too big –”

“Shh,” Bucky cut in gently. “Nah, don’t you be thinkin’ that poison, sweetheart. You’re not too big for nothin’, you’re a sweet little boy at heart, right?”

“Yes,” Steve mumbled, “I like – liked bein’ small, liked fittin’ in small spaces, felt safe.”

“You’re still nice an’ tiny, Stevie,” Bucky told him, and his hand slid across Steve’s back to cup his waist. “You got this little waist, those slim hips, just got nice big shoulders t’a go with your rack, honey.”

Steve hiccupped again, feeling his face go hot. Bucky kissed his hair again.

“Nah, you’re a boy no matter the size’a your shoe,” he said. “Whatever you need, sweetheart, that’s what you are, that’s what I’ll call you. And whatever you need to call me, Stevie, you say it, it’ll be true.”

“I don’ know,” Steve mumbled. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky answered. “Hey, we all gotta figure shit out now ‘n’ then, baby, you take your time in figurin’ it out.”

Steve gave a nod. He sniffed hard, then pulled a hand back to rub at his nose.

“Can we lie down again?” he mumbled. “An–an–an’ can I blow my nose?”

“‘Course, sweetheart,” Bucky said. “Here, come with me.”

Bucky let go of him, but just to take his arms and pull him back to the bed. Steve sank back onto it and Bucky grabbed a tissue from the nightstand. He held it up to Steve’s face, covering his nose with it.

“Blow,” Bucky told him.

Steve blew. Bucky held the tissue for him, then wiped his nose and tossed the tissue in the trash before grabbing a second. He held it for him again, Steve blew into it, and Bucky wiped his nose clean before tossing it away. Steve sniffed hard through his nose and Bucky leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I’m gonna take care’a you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Okay, honey?”

Steve nodded. Bucky cupped his face in both hands, smiling at him, then kissed his forehead again.

“Why don’t you lie down for me, an’ I’ll get you a glass of water,” he suggested. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve nodded again and pulled his legs up onto the bed. Bucky lifted the blankets, then draped them over him, and brushed at his hair briefly before turning and walking out. Steve turned onto his side and grabbed one of Bucky’s pillows, hugging it tightly to his chest. He still felt fragile. He wasn’t sure if this was real.

He heard footsteps behind him. Steve pressed his face into the pillow, then he felt Bucky’s hand touch his shoulder, totally gentle.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly. “Got you the water, I need you to sit up and drink it, okay?”

Steve reluctantly uncovered his face, turned over and pushed up, putting his upper back and shoulders to the headboard. Bucky left his hand on Steve’s shoulder as he sat up, he didn’t hand Steve the glass, he held it to his lips for him. 

“Here you go, honey,” Bucky murmured. “That’s it, take a sip.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and he gulped down the water, more thirsty than he’d realized. Bucky moved his left hand to the side of Steve’s neck, steadying him as he drank.

“There you go,” Bucky said, “that’s it, honey.”

Steve swallowed a few mouthfuls, then pulled back to get a breath; some spilled over his face before Bucky could tip the glass upright again. Bucky grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and patted Steve’s mouth and chin dry again, then put the glass down. Steve slumped downward on the pillows, his eyelids heavy.

“Hey,” Bucky said again, “I’m thinkin’ you should have a bath, doll.”

Steve blinked, then looked up, his cheeks warming. Bucky gave him a smile.

“Yeah, I meant you, doll,” he chuckled.

Steve flushed even more. Bucky grinned at him and brushed his thumb over Steve’s cheek; it was noticeably cooler than his face.

“How ‘bout it?” Bucky said. “Get you some clean clothes, get you in some nice hot water, wash your hair, huh?”

“Bath,” Steve mumbled, shrinking into the pillows. “Do I – Are you –”

“You can go by yourself,” Bucky added quickly, “it’s okay –”  


Steve shook his head. Bucky cupped his chin, looking at Steve with serious but kind eyes.

“You want me to help you?” he asked.

Steve broke Bucky’s gaze for a second, taking in a shaking breath as his face got hotter, then he shook his head.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said quickly, “whatever you need, I’ll give it to you, Steve.”

“I don’t –” Steve started, exhaling hard. “I don’ wanna be alone, but –”

“It’s okay,” Bucky repeated. “Take your time.”

Steve pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging his knees. “I don’ wanna be alone,” he mumbled. “But a bath sounds nice.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “How ‘bout I sit outside the door, huh? You pull the curtain, I sit outside?”

Steve glanced at him, then shrugged. Bucky picked up Steve’s hand and kissed it.

“Take your time,” he said softly. “Can you tell me what your color is right now?”

Steve glanced at him, then down. “Yellow,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said. “Are you nervous? Scared?”

Steve shrugged again. He glanced towards Bucky, then, shaking, he lifted his arms and held them out. Bucky pushed up from his position squatting by the bed and moved his arms around Steve, drawing him into a warm hug. Steve settled his face against Bucky’s shoulder, trying to steady his breathing.

“Just take deep breaths,” Bucky told him. “Tell me what’s in your head, kiddo.”

“Don’t wanna be alone,” Steve said under his breath. “Wanna take a bath. Want…”

“What?” Bucky prompted him. “You can tell me, honey.”

Steve nuzzled his cheek into Bucky’s shoulder. “I feel better here,” he whispered. “Safe, warm.”

“You jus’ need a good hug, huh?” Bucky answered, a hand wrapping around the back of Steve’s neck. “Need someone t’a hold you together, huh?”

Steve nodded a little. Bucky squeezed the back of his neck, then turned his head and kissed the side of Steve’s head.

“Let’s just sit an’ talk for a while,” he suggested. “We’ll go out in the living room, cuddle on the couch, we’ll talk about your drop an’ what you need, alright?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed. “Okay.”

Bucky slid off the bed. He took Steve’s hands and pulled him up; Steve hugged himself, but then Bucky took his arms again and coaxed them around his own waist. Steve leaned on him, shutting his eyes.

“C’mere,” Bucky said gently, guiding him away.

Bucky opened the bedroom door and walked Steve out into the living room. At the sofa, Bucky helped Steve sit, then dropped down next to him and wrapped him in his arms again. Steve leaned on him and drew his legs up, making himself as small as possible.

“You wanna tell me about last night?” Bucky prompted.

Steve let out his breath. He shrugged and curled up tighter, hugging his knees to his chest again. Bucky rubbed a hand along his back, then leaned back and grabbed something from behind the couch. Steve glanced up to see Bucky shaking out a blanket; he draped it over him, covering all of him. Steve relaxed and nuzzled his face into Bucky’s shoulder.

“You ready to talk?” Bucky asked again.

Steve nodded slowly. He exhaled again, then took Bucky’s hand and pulled it around him, holding it in place with both of his hands. Bucky covered Steve’s hands with his free right hand, securing Steve in his arms.

“I stole your shirt,” Steve said under his breath.

“Huh?” Bucky replied, sounding confused.

“The one you were wearing yesterday,” Steve sighed. “You feel asleep in the chair, so I made you get up and go to bed, and when you got in bed, you took your shirt off and tossed onto the floor. I picked it up and – and took it downstairs.”

“Oh,” Bucky said quietly. “Uh. Why?”

Steve shrugged. “It – It smelled like you. Made me dizzy, I – I wanted to lie down with you, but I thought you didn’t… didn’t want me so I – I went downstairs. But I took the shirt with me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Bucky said gently, “it’s okay, I don’t mind that you took it, kiddo, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve mumbled.

“You were in subspace last night, weren’t you?” Bucky asked softly. “Emptyin’ the dishwasher for me, takin’ care’a the dishes, cleanin’ up. Put you in subspace, didn’t it?”

Steve thought back to the night before, to the quiet that had filled his head, Bucky had casually waved over his shoulder and said _“You can empty the dishwasher,”_ and Steve had just slipped.

“Been a while,” Steve mumbled.

“How long’s a while?” Bucky asked.

Steve squirmed a little. Bucky lifted a hand and brushed through his hair.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “How long’s it been since somebody took care’a you the way you deserve, kiddo?”

“A while,” Steve mumbled again.

“How long?” Bucky just repeated.

Steve sucked in a breath and shook his head, dropping his face to press it against Bucky’s chest, so he wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Was with Peggy,” he whispered. “A year, I guess. Last time, we – we were in London, prepping for the attack on Hydra’s headquarters. Wasn’t even much then. Just a lil’ bit, put me to sleep.”

“Jesus,” Bucky responded just as quietly.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Steve continued his whisper. “To me, it was – it wasn’t that long. A few days before – before my last mission. And then…”

“Hey,” Bucky said softly. “A year or seventy, it’s still a long time to be on your own, Stevie.”

Steve shook his head. “I was okay,” he tried to say.

“No, no, you weren’t,” Bucky insisted. “But you’re okay now, you’re gonna be fine, ‘cause I’m gonna take care’a you now. Look at me, Stevie.”

Steve took in a careful breath, then lifted his head and rested it on Bucky’s shoulder instead, looking Bucky in the eye obediently. Bucky touched his cheek with a gentle hand.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said. “You trust me, sweetheart? You trust me to do that?”

Steve blinked once, twice, then he nodded and turned his face into Bucky’s hand. Bucky closed the distance between them and pressed a lingering kiss to Steve’s forehead. When he pulled back, just an inch, Steve decided to be bold. He lifted his head and closed the gap again, this time, bringing their lips to touch. Bucky grabbed onto his hair, returning the kiss firmly. It was just a touch of lips, no tongue, no funny business, but it lit up every nerve in Steve’s body with a heated desire. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

But he let Bucky control it, control him with the grip on his hair. He needed that more.

Bucky broke the kiss and Steve let his head slump onto his shoulder again, feeling almost relieved. Bucky kissed his cheek, his hand returning to the back of his neck.

“I’ve got’chu,” Bucky murmured. “Okay, sweetheart? I’ve got you.”

Steve nodded. He felt tired, he felt alive. He was warm and that made all the difference.

*

Steve was a gorgeous boy. Sweet and needy and so very gorgeous. He melted under Bucky’s touch, simply became putty and moved where Bucky moved him. He’d been on his own for such a long time, Bucky couldn’t believe the strength he had to have, that he held himself up so long and slipped so easily for Bucky right away. All Bucky wanted to do was sweep Steve into his arms and keep him there. Screw SHIELD, screw the Avengers. Steve was his boy now.

“You want that bath, sweetheart?” Bucky murmured. “Wanna get up?”

Steve nodded against Bucky’s neck. He clung still, his face tucked close to Bucky’s throat. He clearly couldn’t bring himself to let go and Bucky wouldn’t make him.

“C’mere,” Bucky said gently, “let’s get up, honey.”

Steve slipped off the sofa with him. Bucky put his arm around Steve’s waist and Steve leaned into him, keeping his face near Bucky’s throat. 

“There you go,” Bucky said, “there you go, sweetheart, good boy.”

Steve clung tighter to him with a little whimper. Bucky kissed his hair and rubbed his hand up and down Steve’s side, being very gentle.

“Here’s what I want you to do, baby,” Bucky said as he opened the bathroom door for Steve. “I’m gonna draw the bath for you, get you a washcloth an’ some soap an’ all, then I’m gonna step out, I’ll leave the door cracked. You’re gonna strip off and get in the bath and if you need me,” he concluded, stepping in front of Steve and cupping his face, “you just call, alright?”

Steve nodded without making eye contact. “Okay, Daddy,” he whispered.

Bucky smiled and pulled Steve in to kiss his forehead. “Daddy’ll be right outside,” he murmured. “Sit down on the toilet, for now, baby, while I get everything ready for you.”

Steve sank down onto the closed toilet lid, his arms circling his own waist. Bucky pulled the curtain back and knelt down to swap the drain-guard for the stopper, fitting it in snugly. He switched the water flow from the showerhead to the faucet, then turned on the hot water. The water burst out, warm and then getting hotter, and Bucky added some cold to temper it. He pushed up and stepped to the shelves just beside the toilet and took down a clean washcloth, then a clean towel, and then picked up a bottle of berry-scented bubble bath he kept around for Benny.

“Hey,” Bucky said, kneeling in front of Steve with it, “you want some of this?”

Steve blinked slowly for a moment, then turned his head and looked at the bottle Bucky held out. He blinked again, and then he smiled and nodded. Bucky grinned and pushed up just enough to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead, then he put the towel and washcloth down on the ledge between the shower splash-guard and the wall, and knelt in front of the tub again. He unscrewed the cap of the bubble bath and poured a generous amount into the water, then swirled the water around with the soap to generate bubbles, checking the temperature as he did. It was a little too hot, so Bucky adjusted it.

Flicking water from his hand, Bucky stood up and dried his hands on a towel hanging next to the shower. He took his shampoo and body wash down from the corner rack and put them on the edge of the tub, then added the washcloth so it was in reach. Bucky turned and stepped in front of Steve again. Steve lifted his head and blinked at him, looking weary.

“I’m gonna step out,” Bucky said gently. “You call me if you need me, sweetheart, I’ll be right outside.”

Steve nodded. Bucky bent at the waist and kissed Steve’s forehead, lingering, then pulled back. He nodded to Steve with a smile, slipped out of the door, and pushed it almost shut again. Bucky took a few steps back, then leaned on the wall and sank down, landing on his ass. He folded one leg and left the other upright, leaning his elbow on it, and let his temple rest against the wall. 

With the door just cracked, Bucky could still hear from inside the bathroom. The gushing water, Steve’s clothes falling to the ground, then Steve climbing into the tub. The slosh of the water, the click of one of the soap bottles. Bucky turned to rest his back against the wall and let his head fall back with a slow exhale.

Inside the bathroom, Steve was being slow. Bucky listened carefully, but he only heard the water flowing, occasionally sloshing as Steve moved. He wasn’t moving a lot. After a few minutes, Bucky braced himself to get up.

“Stevie?” he called. “How’s it going?”

Bucky waited, but he heard Steve heave a sigh.

“Daddy?” Steve called back. “Can – Can you come –?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, getting up immediately. “What is it, honey?” he asked as he pushed the door open again.

Steve sat with his big shoulders hunched in the bubbles, looking miserable. Bucky bit his cheek, internally scolding himself for even suggesting Steve be alone.

Steve held up the washcloth. “Will you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” Bucky said, closing the distance already. “I’d love to wash you, baby boy.”

Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink. Bucky knelt down at the edge of the bathtub and took the washcloth from him. 

“That’s what daddies are for,” Bucky said, giving Steve a gentle smile. “Daddy takes care’a his baby, okay?”

Steve nodded. Bucky picked up the soap and squirted a little more onto the cloth, then worked it against itself in his hand to build up a lather. 

“Here we go,” Bucky murmured, “c’mere, honey.”

Bucky brought the washcloth to Steve’s shoulders. Steve slumped forward a little more, he pulled his knees up from the bubbles and rested his cheek on them. His back was exposed from the water and Bucky carefully ran the washcloth down, dragging soap over Steve’s skin.

“What’s in your head, honey?” Bucky asked.

Steve lifted his cheek and turned his head to look sort of in Bucky’s direction. Not quite. He shrugged. Bucky ran the washcloth up Steve’s back again, bringing it up to the back of his neck.

“Is it noisy?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head.

“Quiet?” Bucky tried again.

Steve just shook his head.

“Hey,” Bucky said, letting go of the washcloth to cup Steve’s neck. “Stevie, look at me?”

Steve twisted around, displacing water. He shrugged again.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky said. “Talk to me.”

“I’m tired,” Steve mumbled.

“Okay,” Bucky said. “That’s fine, honey. After your bath, tell you what, you ‘n’ me, we’ll make a nest in the living room and we’ll watch movies, okay?”

Steve nodded and smiled a little. Bucky pushed up onto his knees and kissed Steve’s temple, then picked up the washcloth again and started washing Steve’s shoulders going down his arms.

“Can I wash your front, sweetheart?” Bucky asked.

Steve leaned back. Bucky made eye-contact and Steve nodded. He let his knees slip back into the bubbles and released his arms. He was still slumped, his chest covered by the bubbles. His shoulders sloped in, the curve of his clavicle prominent. His pecs sloped out and down, like proper tits. Steve leaned forward in the bath, just enough to keep the swell of his pecs under the bubbles.

“Stevie?” Bucky prompted.

Steve glanced up, then down again. He hunched forward more, increasing his cleavage and hiding it at the same time.

“If you don’t want me to, it’s fine,” Bucky said quickly. “It’s okay, honey.”

“‘M sorry,” Steve mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky told him, “it’s fine, baby, I swear. You be shy all you want, honey, okay?”

Steve pulled his legs back up to his chest, hiding it. Bucky touched his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he insisted. “Do you want me to step out again?”

“No!” Steve said quickly, hugging his knees even tighter. “I just – I don’t wanna play, Daddy.”

“We’re not playing,” Bucky told him, “hey, baby, we’re not playing. Daddy’s just taking care of you, that’s not playin’ around.”

Steve put his face between his knees. “‘M not a toy,” he mumbled.

Bucky let out a soft breath. He dropped the washcloth, shifted onto his knees, and wrapped his arms around Steve completely, ignoring the water and the bubbles. He hugged him, holding him tight.

“You’re not a toy,” Bucky murmured, “you’re not a toy, sweetie, Daddy’s not gonna play with you. Nobody’s gonna play with you, honey.”

Steve moved again, displacing more water. He moved onto his knees and hugged Bucky tightly.

“You’re not a toy,” Bucky repeated. “We’re not playing.”

“Not a toy,” Steve whispered. “I hate it. Hated.”

“You’re not,” Bucky said again. “You never will be again, I promise.”

Steve sniffled and nuzzled against Bucky’s throat. Bucky rested his cheek against Steve’s hair, only damp so far, and just held him.

“You wanna tell me about it?” he asked quietly.

Steve let out his breath. “Not right now,” he answered. “I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t know.”  


“That’s fine,” Bucky said. “You don’t gotta tell me anything, you know that?”  


“I told Peggy,” Steve mumbled. “She kinda… Pulled it outta me.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna pull it outta you,” Bucky said firmly. He kissed Steve’s hair again and rested his cheek back on the same spot. “I just wanna take care’a you. If that involves listenin’ to your stories ‘bout the past, I’m happy to listen, if you don’t wanna talk, I’m happy to help you think’a other things.”  


Steve nodded a little. He reached up and grasped Bucky’s arm, holding it in place. Bucky figured he shouldn’t let go. 

“I can guess, though,” Bucky said softly.

“Not hard,” Steve agreed. “I mean… Some of it’s not obvious…”

“You’re not a toy, kiddo,” Bucky promised him. “And it’s not right if anybody treated you like that without you wanting it. It’s not just wrong, it’s evil.”

“Okay,” Steve replied in just as soft a tone.

Bucky pulled back some and cupped Steve’s face. “You can talk about whatever happened,” he said, “doesn’t have to be to me. Yannow, we got this fun new thing called therapy, it’s for anyone and everyone that’s got shit in their brains they wanna get out. Anytime you wanna go, you can.”

Steve smiled, but it didn’t look earnest. “I’ll think about it,” he said, and he didn’t sound honest.

Bucky just sighed, however, and let it go for the time being. He kissed Steve’s forehead, then picked up the washcloth again and raised it to start wetting Steve’s hair.

“You stay just like you are,” he told him, “Daddy’ll do all the work for you, okay?”

Steve let his cheek come back down on his knee and he smiled again, this time with a little more sincerity. Bucky gave him a real smile, wanting him to know he was loved in that moment.

And he was. Bucky realized as he carefully wetted and washed Steve’s hair, he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _stick around, chapters 11 and 12 should be up later this evening_


	11. Rope Bunny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _up ahead is raynaki's art, which i hope y'all are pumped for bc it is EXCELLENT. if you're familiar with shibari or Japanese bondage, you should recognize the term "rope bunny," if you don't, it's a term for the person getting tied up_

#  _11: Rope Bunny_

After his bath, Bucky helped Steve back to the bedroom. He let Steve get dressed by himself and after, Steve lay down and curled into a fetal position. Bucky lay down behind him and wrapped around him as best he could and eventually, Steve unfurled, blooming slowly as he fell asleep. When Steve finally pressed back into Bucky’s chest, Bucky let himself fall asleep.

He woke up a few hours later, hungry, thirsty, and with a demanding bladder. There was light coming from under the drawn shades and when Bucky rolled over to look at the clock; it was nearly 8, the sun had been up for a while.

Bucky was alone. 

He got out of bed and wandered into the living room. Empty. No one in the kitchen. Steve was gone. He’d gotten away while Bucky was asleep and left. 

Bucky ran a hand over his jaw as he tried to control his growing anxiety. Steve had been in a bad way when they’d laid down, now he’d vanished, just like he’d tried to do earlier.

“I thought we were okay!” Bucky groaned to no one, then let out a sigh. 

Bucky walked over to the window and looked out; Steve’s bike was gone. Bucky shook his head, then left the window and went back to his bedroom to throw on shoes. He was still wearing street clothes, he hadn't changed after he’d brought Steve upstairs. Bucky shoved his feet into shoes, didn’t take the time to lace them, just tucked the ends of the laces inside his shoes. He got up again and hurried out, grabbing his keys and wallet from by the door as barely an after-thought. 

On the first floor, Bucky knocked on Steve’s door first. There wasn’t an answer, though Bucky waited a few minutes. He tried the door, but it was locked. Bucky stepped back, then walked to the front door and opened it, stepping out onto the stoop.

It was raining; pouring buckets down onto the streets and the pedestrians walking by with umbrellas and hoods of raincoats drawn far over their heads. Bucky lingered on the step for a second, then turned around and ran back upstairs to get a coat and boots.

His raincoat was hanging up by the door, but his rain boots weren’t any place obvious. Bucky went back into his room to look for them, pushing open the door, and then he saw a piece of paper taped to the door that he’d missed before. Bucky grabbed it.

_I’m sorry I ran out on you. Before you go panicking, I’m okay, I’m not doing anything stupid or dangerous. I just need to think some stuff out. I’ll be back sooner or later. I promise. Feel free to call or text if you’re worried._

Bucky fell back against the doorway, letting out a heavy breath. This was better that he’d thought. If Steve was willing to talk to Bucky while he was off doing his thinking, then he was in a good headspace.

Bucky got out his phone and sat down on the bed again to send Steve a text. He just asked Steve to keep him in the loop about when he’d be home, then he laid back, letting the phone fall from his grip. It was early morning, Bucky had all day before his meeting. He worked 10-10 every night the rest of the week until next Monday and Tuesday, then again the week after, and again the week after that. He just needed to hope Steve wasn’t gone long and he got back on Bucky’s day-off.

Or he needed to look at a schedule that didn’t have him working so much that every minute spent at home was a minute he spent sleeping.

*

Steve watched the sun rising from his bike. He didn’t take the highway this time, he drove out of the city in the shortest route possible, then took state byways and scenic routes south. As he drove, he let his head empty out.

Steve never had problems finding his way around. He didn’t need a map to get from New York back to DC, not even in taking the scenic route. He pulled into the city at half-past 1 o’clock. Even then, he knew how to get where he needed to be. He remembered easily.

Steve parked the bike in the shade of a tree, locked everything up, and walked with his hands in his pockets up to the building. He opened the front doors and stepped back as a family walked out, the parents thanked him but the kids ignored him. Steve avoided eye contact as he slipped inside and headed for the front desk.

“Hi,” a young nurse greeted him, “welcome to Rose Valley Senior Community, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Peggy Carter,” Steve said to her with his eyes down.

“Peggy is short for?” the nurse prompted.

“Margaret,” Steve answered quickly.

The nurse rolled her chair to a computer and hit a few keystrokes. “No Margaret Carter here, sir.”

Steve glanced up. “Are you sure? I was told –”

“There’s a Margaret Carter-Sousa,” the nurse added with a just little bit of snark, turning halfway towards Steve again. “If that’s who you’re looking for.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, letting out a deep breath. “yeah, that – that might be her.”

The nurse looked up at him over her glasses, then frowned. “Aren’t you –”

“Yes,” Steve cut her off, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” the nurse said, her eyes widening as she flushed a deeper shade. “Um, well, we ask visitors to fill out some paperwork, sir, it’s just a formality –”

Steve waved it on. The nurse pulled out a form, a clipboard, and handed it to him with a pen. Steve moved off to the side and started filling in the boxes. Date of birth, July 4th, 1918. Full name, Rogers, Steven Grant. Sex, male. Designation status. Steve tapped his pen against the clipboard for a moment, then sighed, and wrote in Alpha, Dominant. He finished, signed it, and handed it back. The nurse barely glanced over it.

“Mrs. Carter-Sousa is in her room,” she said. “Third floor, room three-oh-nine. Knock and wait for her to tell you you can come in, she’s fussy these days. You know she’s –”

“Got Alzheimer’s?” Steve guessed and the nurse nodded. “Yeah. Thank you,” he told the nurse with a slight nod.

He took the stairs up, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor, not just to avoid drawing attention to himself. He hated lying, even on paper. Peggy used to swat him on the hand or arm whenever he hunched his shoulders over filling out another form and claiming to be a Dominant Alpha.

On the third floor, Steve found a sign directing him to the left to find room #309. People passed him in the hallway and Steve moved out of their way. He turned another corner and came face to face with #309. He stopped, took a breath, and knocked.

“Who is it?” 

Steve took a shaky breath. “An old friend,” he called.

“Come in.”

Steve turned the door handle, his hand trembling. Inside, there was a short hallway, a closet just on the right. Steve stepped inside and shut the door again, then hesitated there. 

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Peggy called. “Come in here.”

Steve moved jerkily, without even really thinking. He could never resist an order from her.

He lifted his eyes from the paneled wood floor as he rounded the corner. It might’ve been 70 years, but he still knew Peggy. She was lying in a hospital bed, the back raised so she could sit up. Her hair was white, gray at the ends, but it was still curled just like she’d done it during the war. Her skin was thin, he could see veins in the backs of her hands, purple age spots dotted her skin like freckles. She wore a modest nightgown that buttoned to the throat and had lace frills on the cuff, but Steve remembered her just as easily in lace-accented satin brassieres and step-in panties made in France.

Steve met her eyes just beyond the corner and he just stopped again. Peggy looked at him for a moment, she blinked, and then her aged face split into a wide grin as she sat up even more in her bed. Steve forced himself to smile back at her.

“Steven!” Peggy murmured softly. “Oh, my days! You’re here!”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. “I – Did you know I was alive?”

Peggy smiled at him warmly and held up her hands. “I might be old, darling, but I keep my fingers in a few pies still. Come sit!”

Steve obeyed her summons; there was an armchair in the corner, but a folding chair was right next to the bed. Steve sat in it, hands gripping his jeans. Peggy was still smiling at him.

“Look at you,” she said quietly. 

Peggy clucked her tongue and held out her hand to touch his cheek. Steve leaned into her touch, his eyes shutting. Her hands were cold; they’d always been cold.

“You look like shit, darling,” Peggy murmured again. “How much have you slept lately?”

“Not enough,” Steve answered honestly.

“Who’s been taking care of you?” Peggy asked him. “I ought to have a word with her.”

“Nobody has,” Steve admitted, dropping her gaze. “Not – Not really, not lately.”

“Oh, bunny,” Peggy sighed.

Her thumb brushed his cheekbone. Steve let out his breath, blinking quickly, and forced another smile as he looked up at her again. This was why he’d delayed coming for so long. It was so hard to look her in the eye.

“You were always terrible at taking care of yourself,” Peggy said gently. “Darling, I hope – You’re not really alone, are you?”

Steve shook his head. “I have a – a friend,” he started. “She’s helped me fix my eating habits. I was – Wasn’t doing too well a while ago,” he admitted, dropping her gaze again.

“Darling,” Peggy murmured.

“And,” Steve continued, feeling his cheeks flame. “And there’s a – another Dom. He wants to – to take care of me.”

“Is he good?” Peggy asked.

Steve nodded. “I dropped yesterday. He found me, helped me out of it. He punished me for not coming to see you sooner,” he added, smiling nervously. “Was feeling guilty about that.”

“Now you’re here,” Peggy said. “Darling, I felt the same things after you… When you disappeared. It was hard to move on. I missed you a great deal.”

Steve glanced up briefly, nodding, and he blinked away tears. “I missed you, too,” he told her in a rough voice.

“But it’s alright,” Peggy said quickly, cupping his cheek still. “This man, if he wants to care for you and you want to let him, then let him. Please don’t hurt yourself because you’re tied to the past, bunny.”

“I’m –” Steve started, then cut himself off to take a deep breath. “I’m not doing great, Pegs. I – I feel lost –”

“I know,” Peggy said, reaching out with her other hand to pick up his; she felt so frail. “You fought for a much better world than we have now. I’m afraid we’ve rather mucked it up.”

“I’m afraid,” Steve admitted, his voice cracking. “I’m afraid that – that there’s nothing I’m good at but fighting. I can’t sit around doing nothing, ma’am. I worked myself into a stress heat ‘cause I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t tear myself away from the job. But I’m so tired –”

“I know,” Peggy cut him off gently. “I know, darling. You were like that always, long before you stepped into the Vita-Ray machine. You need a hand to guide you, to ground you, give you something to feel good about.”

“All I’m good at is war,” Steve insisted.

“No, that’s not true,” Peggy answered. “That’s your insecurity talking, darling, and it’s a dirty great snake called Ronan, you understand? You are a great artist. When was the last time you drew anything?”

Steve lifted his gaze and shook his head, glancing around the room almost to find something else to look at. His eyes landed on a framed scrap of paper on the wall opposite him. A sketch he’d done, of Peggy holding a cigarette holder to her lips. He’d had a #2 pencil and a red crayon, drawn it on a faded newspaper. He lifted a hand and pointed to it.

“Then,” he said. “That was the last thing I drew.”

Peggy looked at it, then her eyes got sad and she turned back to him, she smiled, just as sad as her eyes.

“Draw something for your new owner,” she said. “Let him collar you, bunny, let him take care of you. You can always come back to me if he isn’t what you need.”

Steve looked back down at his hands. “I don’t know what I need.”

“Yes, you do,” Peggy said. “You need love and attention and rest. You need praise, to be called good every day, for everything you do. You need someone much softer than I ever was, darling.”

“I needed you,” Steve insisted, looking up at her, frowning. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, ma’am –”

“I wasn’t really what you needed,” Peggy cut him off again, but she was smiling. “I was glad to be there for you when I could, you did need whatever you could get back then, but I wouldn't have been good for you in the long run, not then, not now. You need a much gentler Domme than I, darling.”

“I needed you,” Steve repeated quietly.

Peggy gripped his hand and shook it lightly. Maybe weakly. She smiled at him, still sadder than he’d ever seen her.

“You needed to feel at peace,” she said, “I was your best option. If the war ended and we’d all gone home, I would’ve helped you find the sort of domination you really needed then. I wish I could help you now. I was much too authoritarian for you, bunny, you struggled to keep up with me.”

“Are you saying I wasn’t eager enough to please?” Steve joked half-heartedly.

She laughed, just as weak as her grip. “No,” she agreed. “No, you were too eager. I was too harsh. We weren’t a good match.”

Steve dropped his gaze again. He’d probably known that all along, but it was difficult to accept it. Peggy had been the only person that had been kind to him in a long time.

“The man that wants to collar me,” he said softly, “he wants to be my Daddy. Not my Master.”

“Good,” Peggy answered. “I hope he spoils you, darling boy. You deserve it.”

Steve let out his breath and looked up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner.”

Peggy just smiled at him. “It’s alright,” she said, “it’s barely been a few days since they found you, hasn’t it?”

Steve faltered, just for a second. Then he smiled.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, only a couple of weeks.”

Peggy squeezed his hand again. “Go home,” she said. “Enjoy your life, darling. I enjoyed mine. That’s my last order and my only wish for you; enjoy your life. And don’t work so much,” she added, looking serious. “Take time to be with your loved ones.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve answered softly.

Peggy smiled once more. Steve lifted her frail hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, then he rose up and kissed her cheek. Peggy patted his face as he drew back, her eyes a little unfocused. Steve let go of her hand, then made his way from the room. He felt lighter.

“Everything go okay?” the nurse at the front desk said to Steve as he passed her on the way out.

“Just fine,” Steve told her, smiling.

She waved. Steve held the door for someone else going in, then made his way back to his bike. Pulling out of the parking lot, Steve headed for 95. He’d been running for a while, but it was time to go home. He didn’t want to delay it any longer than he needed to.

*

Bucky took care of his errands after he finished worrying about Steve. He went to the grocery store, picked up laundry soap and a fresh variety of canned pasta sauces and pre-made meals, actually went out on his jog. Around four in the afternoon, he headed to the VA for the pre-meeting coffee and pastry hour, figuring he could load up on sugar and caffeine to steady himself enough in order to tell everybody that he might be collaring a Submissive soon.

The meeting went great. Bucky said less than he’d meant to, but enough. After his buddies congratulated him and Sam asked if he was going to pick out a new collar for Steve.

“I didn’t –” Bucky spluttered.

“Don’t try t’a pull a fast one on me,” Sam advised him playfully. “I’m happy you two worked your shit out.”

Bucky had to smile. “He’s working out the last of his shit right now, actually. But I trust him, he’ll be back.”

“So, you gettin’ him a brand new collar or what?” Sam asked again.

Bucky shook his head. “Goin’ with the one I’ve always had,” he said.

“Hey, a new Submissive deserves a new collar,” Sam argued.

“I’ve had that collar for fourteen years!” Bucky insisted. “Nobody’s ever worn it, Sam; I bought it for the _one,_ yannow?”

Sam nodded, slowly grinning. “And Steve’s the one,” he answered softly.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, smiling now. “Yeah, he’s the one.”

Sam’s face split into a slow grin. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder and gave him a light shake. “I hope shit goes down great for you two,” he said. “Steve’ll love that old thing, no doubt about it.”

Bucky just nodded. “I hope so.”

When the meeting was over and Bucky’d eaten as much of the danishes he could stand, he headed home again. He skipped taking the subway, preferring to walk off some of the pastries. It was overcast and humid and Bucky could tell just by smelling the air that rain was on the way. The tops of trees and hanging signs swayed in a soft breeze, and Bucky remembered his second-cousin Rupa teaching him when he was young about watching the way the leaves followed the wind in order to forecast when it would rain. There wasn’t a lot of wind, despite the moisture in the air and the gathered clouds, so Bucky guessed it wouldn’t rain for a few more hours; possibly not until sunset. As he walked, he looked forward to the coming rain, he could open some of the windows and let the rain’s fresh air sweep through his apartment. He’d need to move the couch so it didn’t get wet.

When he rounded the corner for his block, Steve’s bike was back in front of their building. Bucky broke into a grin and hurried inside.

He knocked on Steve’s door, but after waiting a moment, there was no answer. Bucky put his ear to it, heard nothing, then stepped back and knocked again. 

“Steve?” he called out.

“Here,” Steve’s voice answered. From upstairs.

Bucky smiled again and started up the stairs. He found Steve outside his door, waiting on his knees with his head bowed. Bucky dropped down beside him and grabbed him in a hug, digging his fingers into his clothes. Steve grabbed him back, his hands pulled tightly at Bucky’s clothes, and they clung onto each other for a long moment. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bucky murmured.

“Me, too,” Steve whispered. 

Bucky wanted to kiss Steve, so he did; pressed his lips to his hair, inhaled the sweet cinnamon and sugar scent he’d memorized easily, then pressed his cheek against Steve’s head, just holding on.

“I went –” Steve started in a soft, almost cautious voice, “to – to talk to Peggy.”

“Yeah?” Bucky answered just as softly. “How’d that go?”

“Great,” Steve told him; Bucky could hear him smiling now. “She gave me her blessing.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to cup Steve’s cheek with a hand. Steve pressed into his touch, eyes closed and a smile on his face.

“Will you be mine, sweetheart?” Bucky asked softly. “Will you wear my collar?”

Steve grinned then, opening his eyes, and he nodded at Bucky. Bucky cupped his face with both hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead. After that, he brushed their noses together, lingered there, and when Steve’s breath hitched, he closed the distance between them and brought their lips together.

“Thank you, sweet boy,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips. “Come inside, baby, I’ve got your collar for you.”

He stood up and took Steve’s hands to help him up. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist again when he was on his feet, he still clung to him. Bucky let him while he unlocked the door, led him inside, and guided him to the couch. He pushed Steve down, kissed his hair, and tapped a knuckle under his chin.

“Stay here,” he said quietly, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Steve answered, whispering just the same.

Bucky tapped Steve’s chin again with a smile, then hurried out of the living room into his bedroom. He went into his closet and took a small wooden chest off a shelf. It was locked, the key remaining in it. Bucky turned it and lifted the lid, then took from inside it a soft leather collar; pale, bubblegum pink with brass fittings, it was hand-stitched and lined with delicate suede. He’d bought it from an artisan when he’d still been a fresh face in the Army, along with restraints and belts and a leash, all matching, all soft and pink. Bucky hadn't had a Submissive in mind then, but as he lifted the collar and its leash from the box, he knew that somehow, he’d known that a sweet boy with bright eyes and a sweet smile would be wearing it.

Bucky left the bedroom again and reentered the living room. Steve saw the collar in his hands and he slipped off the couch as if on instinct alone, landing on his knees. Bucky smiled down at him as he walked up and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. Steve let out a soft exhale, his eyes fluttering shut.

“When I put this on you,” Bucky started in a gentle tone, “I become your Daddy, sweetheart. You’ll belong to me, just to me, God knows I never learned how to share. That means that I’m the one who takes care of you, that gives you what you need. If that’s a bath or a snuggle or a spanking, or whatever, you get it from me. You can nod your head or shake it if you understand and you agree.”

Steve nodded his head without even opening his eyes.

“Good boy,” Bucky said softly. “Good boys always get what they need from their Daddies.”

Steve smiled. Bucky knelt down in front of him and unbuckled the collar. He pulled it around Steve’s throat and buckled it again, letting his hands come to rest on Steve’s shoulders.

“Look at me,” Bucky murmured.

Steve opened his eyes; he looked beautiful. He looked at peace.

“Who am I, baby?” Bucky prompted.

“Daddy,” Steve murmured back. “My Daddy.”

“Good,” Bucky said, grinning. “Good boy.”

He cupped Steve’s face and pulled him into a gentle kiss. Steve’s lips opened easily and Bucky gently swept his mouth, tasted him, and Steve whimpered, just melting in Bucky’s arms.

“Hey, baby,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips, “baby, I wanna get’chu sweet an’ comfy, you want that?”

Steve nodded slowly. Bucky kissed him one more time, then got up, clipped the leash onto the collar, and gave it a little tug.

“Follow me, baby,” Bucky encouraged him. “Onto the sofa.”

Steve broke into a lazy grin and fell easily onto his hands and knees. He let Bucky walk him the length of the couch, then waited for Bucky to bend and pick him up before he climbed onto the cushions. Just like a satisfied old dog, he curled up in a loose ball and rested his head on an overstuffed pillow. Bucky, smiling, ruffled Steve’s hair before tucking the lead behind the couch and turning to go back into his room.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he went.

Steve just smiled. Bucky gave him one last look from the doorway of his room, then went inside and hurried back to the closet. He grabbed three bundles of bamboo silk rope, some safety scissors, and a nice scented candle, just to set the mood. He grabbed a lighter on his way out and returned to the living room, where Steve hadn't moved an inch.

“Good boy,” Bucky said as he approached Steve again. “Lookit’chu, you’re behavin’ so well for me.”

Steve lit up in a grin. Bucky bent and kissed Steve’s cheek, then put the candle on the coffee table and struck the lighter. He lit the candle, then put the scissors and lighter down on the table as well and cupped the back of Steve’s neck.

“Sit up, sweetheart,” Bucky said.

Steve pushed up using his hands, then, upright, he hugged his knees to his chest. Bucky cupped his chin.

“I’d like to tie you up,” Bucky said, holding up the rope with a smile. “Just a little bit, tie your hands behind your back, tie your ankles to your thighs. What do you think? Would you like that?”

Steve, still smiling, nodded. He let go of his knees and sat cross-legged, straightening his spine. Bucky pushed up and gave him a kiss, since he was being so good.

“Very good,” he praised aloud, “I’m proud of you, honey. I’m gonna give you a scale, one to five, and you’ll tell me where along that scale you are or somethin’ I’m asking sounds at any time. Five’s no good and one is very good, that make sense?”

Steve nodded again.

“How’s the rope sound?” Bucky asked.

Steve didn’t open his mouth to answer. He held up a hand with his thumb pointing up. Bucky smiled at his palm, then grabbed his wrist and pressed a very loud kiss to his palm. Steve laughed a little and hugged his knees to his chest again, smiling shyly. Bucky grinned at him, cupped the back of his neck, and kissed his forehead.

“Ain’t’chu cute?” he murmured. “Gonna be good for me, babydoll?”

Steve nodded eagerly. Bucky wrapped his hands around Steve’s ankles and gently pulled them out, off the couch.

“I need to be able to see the skin I’m putting the rope on,” he said carefully. “Do you wanna take your shirt off or do you just want me to tie your wrists?”

Steve’s smile faltered, then he hugged himself, looking worried. Bucky kissed his knee quickly.

“It’s alright,” he promised. “Can you give me a number for that?”

“Three,” Steve mumbled.

“Good boy,” Bucky said. “What’s worryin’ you, doll?”

“I don’ wanna be naked,” Steve said quietly. “‘M sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky assured him, “I’m not gonna ask you to take all your clothes off, not ‘til you’re ready, I promise. I can just tie your wrists, or I can give you a tank top if you don’t wanna be shirtless and you can wear some short shorts so I can see the skin the rope’s on, but you ain’t naked. How’s that sound?”

Steve took in a heavy breath. “I can take my shirt off,” he said very softly.

Bucky took Steve’s hands and squeezed them. “Only if you’re sure,” he said gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Steve shook his head. He sat up a little more, pulled his hands from Bucky’s, and gripped the bottom hem of his shirt. He bit his lip, his cheeks went pink, and he lifted it slowly. Bucky couldn’t help but look, taking in the sculpted roll of his stomach, the Adonis lines going down into his pants, and the tiny curve that was his belly button. He didn’t look quite as thin as he’d been what felt like months before when Steve had gotten heat-sick, not nearly as gaunt, but Bucky could still see faint shadows of his ribs, his hips stuck out against his stomach, his clavicle was still incredibly sharp. Steve hesitated halfway through and Bucky squeezed his knee.

“You don’t have to,” he reminded him.

“Want to,” Steve insisted, and he lifted his shirt the rest of the way over his head.

Bucky’s gaze snapped to his chest. Steve blushed pink all the way down to his nipples, a gorgeous shade of pink that complimented the incredibly pale skin. Bucky took in the shape of his pecs, the roll of his shoulders, the defined dip of his clavicle, and snapped his gaze back up.

“I’m real proud of you,” Bucky told him. “You’re gorgeous, Stevie, I feel really privileged to be trusted enough by you to be allowed to see you like this.”

Steve, still bright pink, folded his hands in his lap as he squirmed lightly, as though he didn’t even realize he was doing it. He looked so embarrassed, but he was smiling.

“Was the same as bein’ a regular Omega back then,” Steve mumbled, “takin’ your shirt off, wasn’t allowed, frowned on. Only Omegas with loose morals showed Alphas their chests.”

“That ain’t true,” Bucky said quickly, pressing another kiss to Steve’s knee. “And you know I cherish getting to see you just like I ought’a, baby, I understand why you’re nervous about this.”

“I was an Omega with loose morals,” Steve said then.

Bucky frowned a little. “I dunno, doll,” he said. “I mean, morals mean somethin’ different now than when you was growin’ up. I don’t think it makes anybody immoral to be intimate with someone else; outside marriage, if that’s what you mean.”

Steve nodded, then he bit his lip. “I had real loose morals,” he mumbled. “Should’ve – Should’ve already said, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Bucky asked.

“Was a call Omega,” Steve said in a hushed whisper. “Before the Army. Before – ‘fore Ronan. I worked – Worked bars, drunks.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. That honestly made sense, given what Steve had told him about his past. But on the other hand, _Steve,_ Captain America, had been a hooker?

“I should’ve told you,” Steve said in a rushed voice, “I’m sorry –”

“Hey, hey!” Bucky cut him off quickly, grabbing his hands and squeezing them. “It’s alright, I don’t care. You’re here now, that’s what matters to me.” He paused, licked his lips, then squeezed Steve’s hands again. “Baby, I’d really like it if you’d think about talkin’ to someone about your past, about the bad things that happened to you. I know how shit like that can weigh on your mind and that’s the opposite of what I want for you.”

Steve nodded a little. Bucky kissed Steve’s hands, then stood up on his knees and cupped Steve’s face.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

Steve lifted his gaze and met Bucky’s. He looked so vulnerable.

“I just want you to be happy,” Bucky said softly. “I want you to smile every day, I wanna wake up to your pretty smile, doll. I want you to feel safe, too. If you ever feel unsafe, baby, I want you to say so. Speak up, tell me if you’re scared. I never want to scare you.”

Steve smiled at him again, and he nodded. Bucky pulled him into a gentle kiss, keeping it sweet and making it last. Steve opened up so easily for him.

“Daddy’s gonna make everything alright,” Bucky murmured. “Just lean on me, doll, I’ll take good care of you.”

Steve grinned, looking so much like he actually believed Bucky. Bucky took Steve’s shirt and folded it, then laid it off to the side. Steve slouched forward on the couch, pushing his hips out, and shoved his jeans down. Bucky took Steve’s shoes off for him and tossed them out of the way, then took his jeans, folded them, and put them aside with his shirt. Steve was left in his socks and a pair of boxers; he hugged his knees to his chest, looking uncomfortable again.

Bucky grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch. “Are you cold, baby?”

Steve glanced up and shrugged. Bucky draped the blanket over him anyway, then sat down next to him and gave the leash a little tug.

“C’mere,” Bucky said gently.

Steve crawled between Bucky’s spread thighs and curled up against his chest. Bucky hugged him and pressed a kiss to his hair, then started petting him gently. Steve relaxed, letting his head rest on Bucky’s sternum, he even let out a soft sigh. Bucky felt pleased as he stroked Steve’s hair.

“I’m happy to take things slow, babydoll,” Bucky said gently. “You tell me at any point you wanna tap out, we tap out, okay?”

Steve nodded quickly, then nuzzled his cheek over Bucky’s chest. His hand twisted in the fabric of Bucky’s shirt and held on tightly. Bucky paused in petting Steve’s arm.

“You want me to take that off?” Bucky offered.

Steve hid his face in Bucky’s shoulder, but he nodded. 

“Of course, baby,” Bucky said. “Sit up a little.”

Steve pulled back, tugging the blanket more securely around him, and Bucky grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it off over his head. He tossed it aside and almost immediately, Steve dove for him and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s middle. Bucky laughed softly and hugged Steve back, rubbing his hands up and down Steve’s back.

“It’s okay, baby boy,” Bucky murmured, “Daddy’s got you, you’re okay.”

“What’re you gonna do after you tie me up?” Steve asked quietly.

“I’m gonna cuddle you,” Bucky said softly. “Gonna pet you just like I am now, nothin’ much else.”

Steve lifted his head a little and looked up at him, looking so sweet and innocent that Bucky couldn’t help but kiss him. After pecking his lips, Steve blushed again. 

“You’re cute, yannow,” Bucky said, grinning down at him more, “‘specially when you blush.”

Steve blushed even more. He let out a quiet little sound and hid his face against Bucky’s shoulder again.

“Don’t be shy,” Bucky encouraged, squeezing him closer. “You looked like you had a question, sweet thing, what’d’you wanna ask?”

Steve shrugged. He squirmed a bit and turned on his side, looking up at Bucky. “Thought you were gonna play with me,” he mumbled.

“I am!” Bucky insisted. “I’m gonna tie you up an’ cuddle you, that’s playing.”

Steve squirmed again. “But,” he mumbled again.

“What?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced up, then hid his face against Bucky’s shoulder. He mumbled something against his skin that Bucky actually couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” Bucky prompted.

Steve’s ears were bright red. He shook his head and shrunk down, hiding in Bucky’s shoulder.

“Tell me, baby,” Bucky encouraged, “Daddy’s not gonna shame you or be upset with you, but if you don’t tell me, Daddy can’t give it to you, and I wanna give you everything in the world, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed,” he added.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up and he fought a laugh. “Oh, kiddo,” he chuckled, “I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

Steve shrugged a little. “Maybe,” he admitted, though he still sounded unsure.

Bucky pinched Steve’s earlobe and gave it a little tug; Steve snorted and batted Bucky’s hand away, then grabbed onto him and hugged tighter. Bucky let his hand fall back into Steve’s hair.

“Tell you what,” Bucky said softly, “if you start feelin’ good while Daddy’s cuddling you, I’ll help you feel even better. Does that sound nice?”

Steve’s face turned pink all over, his shoulders going rosy even down to the back of his neck. He pressed his face into Bucky’s skin, his cheek warm against Bucky’s breast, and he nodded.

“There’s my good little boy,” Bucky murmured, resuming his petting of Steve’s hair.

Steve let out a soft noise and held on tighter. He was starting to tremble.

“Would you like to be tied up now?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered immediately. “Thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me,” Bucky told him, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Sit up?”

Steve let go of him and shuffled back. He sat on his knees in the middle of the sofa, hands on his thighs and clenched into fists. He was still pink, the blush going all the way down to his pecs where his nipples were hard. Bucky could smell something in the air that was a little sweeter than Steve normally was, a warmer spice with a headier taste. Steve was biting his lip, looking down. Bucky reached out and brushed his cheek with a hand and Steve colored even pinker, his blush bright against the collar around his throat and the leash draping down his chest.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve let out a tiny squeak; a squeak, and he jerked to hide his face with his hands. Bucky laughed softly and took Steve’s wrists, gently pulling them away.

“Don’t hide from Daddy,” he said, “Daddy wants t’a see your pretty face and that pretty blush.”

Steve bit his lip again as his cheeks darkened again. He glanced up, briefly made eye contact, and looked down again. The warm spice in the air was growing stronger.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmured, then kissed Steve’s forehead. “Go on the floor, on your knees.”

“Yessir,” Steve mumbled back.

Steve swung his legs out from under him and slid off the sofa, landing on his knees. Bucky got up and picked up his leash, then gave it a tug and Steve shuffled forward on his knees until Bucky had him in the middle of the area rug; the dark purple shag fibers stood up against his legs skin, making the fine blond hairs stand out as they almost glowed clear in the overhead light. Bucky took a moment just to examine him, studying the way that Steve’s forearms and shins had soft hair growing over his ankles and hands, but the hair thinned to almost nothing above his knees and elbows. 

Steve glanced up at him, then down to follow his gaze, and he blushed all over again, squirming on his knees as he bit his lip more. Bucky knew the warm sugary scent in the air was Steve getting horny now, because he could see the bulge in his boxers getting bigger. Bucky took a second to study it, wondering what he’d look like naked, if he had thick hair around the base of his cock or if it was sparse like the fine line of hair at his belly. The outline of Steve’s cock was small, too, smaller than Bucky would’ve expected. He wondered if Steve’s designation made his dick smaller than the average man’s or if Steve was just built that way.

“Turn around,” Bucky told Steve quietly.

Steve glanced up, then put his weight more on his knees as he leaned forward, he touched the rug to balance himself as he shifted, pivoting on the spot. Bucky went with him, keeping the leash up, until Steve had turned to face the recliner.

“There,” Bucky said. “Stay there.”

Steve folded his hands in his lap again, covering the small outline in his boxers. Bucky unclipped the leash from his collar, then put it down, picking up one of the two bundles of rope instead.

“Arms behind your back,” Bucky told Steve, “hold onto your elbows.”

Steve picked up his hands and tucked them behind his back, glancing up at Bucky with his lower lip still caught between his teeth.

“Is that comfortable?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, sir,” Steve said.

“Good,” Bucky answered. “Stay still.”

He shook out the rope, found the center and doubled it, then knelt down in front of Steve and began to work. He mentally picked a favored diamond-patterned box tie, working from Steve’s neck down his chest and torso, using simple knots and twists to weave the harness. Steve lost tension in his shoulders as Bucky started to bind his arms to his chest, and by the time Bucky was finishing the harness behind his back, Steve’s head was dropped back as he smiled up at the ceiling and he was almost purring.

“Good boy,” Bucky said behind Steve, tucking the ends of the rope away where they wouldn’t be in his way. “You were so good, Stevie, obeyed so nicely.”

Bucky moved around him to his front and found Steve smiling. He cupped Steve’s chin, lifted his face, and touched their noses together gently.

“So sweet,” Bucky murmured. “You feel floaty, sweet boy?”

Steve nodded a little.

“Now, I know you can’t do much with your hands behind your back,” Bucky added, “so when I ask you a number, I need you to say it aloud. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve murmured.

“What’s your number?” Bucky asked.

Steve grinned. “One.”

Bucky pressed their lips together. Steve moaned a little and leaned in, so Bucky wrapped his hands around Steve’s elbows to steady him, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss, pushed his tongue into Steve’s mouth, and got another soft moan from him in response. Bucky cut the kiss off after a second, ending it with a peck to Steve’s lips and bumping their noses together gently, and when he drew back, Steve’s eyes were hooded and hazy.

“Good boy,” Bucky said softly.

Steve whimpered a little and leaned in again.

"I need to tie your legs," Bucky added, "sit back again. What's your number?"

Steve leaned back, straightening his spine again, he said, "One," with a soft smile and a light blush.

Bucky knocked a knuckle under Steve's chin with a smile and that made Steve grin and blush more. Bucky grabbed the second bundle of rope, which was really two 5 meter lengths bundled together, and shook them out to separate them. He doubled both and grabbed the bight of one, and moved to Steve's side with it.

"Stand up on your knees for a moment," Bucky told Steve.

Steve pushed up obediently. 

"And rest on your toes," Bucky continued, then when Steve did what he was told, he added a pleased, "good boy."

Steve grinned, ducking his head. Bucky wrapped the bight around Steve's folded leg, over his thigh and ankle, and held the loop at the bottom of his thigh to pull the tail through it. He easily created tension and started wrapping Steve's legs, neatening the strands as he went to keep them at a safe tightness and to prevent them from bunching up anywhere. When he reached the end of the length, he tucked the tail through the farthest strand and separated the ends to tie them off, wrapping them around the whole section and tying a simple square knot. He moved around Steve and did the same on his other leg, finishing in just a few minutes. 

Bucky grabbed the third bundle last, which was also two lengths folded together, these 3 meters long. He repeated the process at Steve's knees, which were really just for aesthetic than anything else. 

"There," Bucky concluded, standing up. "How do you feel, sweet boy?"

Steve glanced up at him, smiled and blushed, and dropped his gaze again just as quickly. Bucky stepped in front of him and cupped his chin, lifted it so Steve was looking at him.

"Do you feel good, doll?" Bucky asked. 

"Yes, sir," Steve murmured. 

"Good," Bucky said with a smile, cupping Steve's cheek. "You look very pretty like this, babydoll. I'd be happy to tie you up like this anytime you want, you just gotta ask."

"Thank you, sir," Steve answered.

Bucky cupped Steve's face with both hands. "'Cause what does Daddy want to give you, sweet boy?"

"Anything," Steve mumbled, his blush depending again.

"Anything," Bucky agreed. "All you ever gotta do is ask."

Steve smiled sweetly and pressed his cheek into Bucky's right hand, nuzzling into his palm. Bucky lifted his left hand and brushed through Steve's hair, smiling down at him.

"We're gonna sit and I'm gonna pet you now," Bucky said. "You wanna lie down on the sofa or you wanna stay on the floor?"

"Floor," Steve said. "For now, please?"

"Of course," Bucky promised him. "Follow me."

Bucky turned and grabbed the leash from the couch, then clipped it to Steve's collar again. He walked Steve forward and brought him next to the recliner. 

"Do you want a blanket, doll?" Bucky asked. 

Steve shook his head and leaned against the arm of the chair. He shut his eyes and smiled a little, looking very content. 

"Good boy," Bucky said, taking off the leash again. "Are you comfortable? Do you want a pillow?"

"No, thank you, sir," Steve mumbled. "Thank you," he repeated. 

"Of course," Bucky said, dropping into the chair. He rested his hand on Steve's head and resumed petting him. "What's your number, doll?"

"One," Steve answered softly. 

"Good," Bucky said, smiling. "I'm so pleased with you so far, sweetheart, you're very obedient."

Steve bumped his head into Bucky's palm with a happy little noise. Bucky grinned properly and scratched his nails against Steve's scalp.

"You know how gorgeous you are?" Bucky continued. "Your eyes are so beautiful, doll, they're such pretty shades of blue; reminds me of stars, yannow?"

"Sir," Steve mumbled in an embarrassed tone as he ducked his face against the arm of the chair.

"What?" Bucky answered with another grin. "You don't like praise, little boy?"

Steve shook his head, then mumbled, "I like it."

"Are you fussin' at your daddy over a lil' compliment?" Bucky added.

"No," Steve mumbled, still embarrassed. 

"Daddy thinks you're pretty," Bucky said firmly, though still sweet. "And I'm gonna tell you all the ways I think you're pretty whenever I like. You're gonna tell Daddy you don't wanna hear that?"

"No," Steve repeated shyly.

"Then I'm gonna talk about how pretty you are," Bucky said smugly. 

Steve let out a small whine and ducked his head again. Bucky let him, but still brushed his fingers through his hair.

"I think it's cute how shy you get," he added. "And how easy you blush; your blush is adorable, doll."

Steve ducked his chin close to his chest, but Bucky could see him smiling. He smelled like that heady sugar, spiced rum combined with the sweet gingerbread scent that Bucky knew meant he was happy. He was hard in his boxers and there was a little dark spot where the tip of his cock was straining against the fabric. Bucky knew the spiced sugar scent was his slick.

"You know what else is pretty?" Bucky continued, his heartbeat picking up. "Look at me, little boy."

Steve lifted his head; his eyes were still hooded, still hazy, his pale lashes fanned out against the dark blonde color of his eyebrows. 

"Can I tell you your tits are pretty, sweetheart?" Bucky asked softly.

Steve flushed right down to his gorgeous tits. He nodded quickly: he pressed his knees together and Bucky smelled his arousal spiking.

"You got such lovely tits, babydoll," Bucky murmured, keeping his hand resolutely in Steve's hair. "I wanna get'chu lingerie, some pink lace to compliment your blush and those cute nipples."

Steve swallowed and bit his lip. He whimpered softly and lifted his chin, dropping his cheek against the chair. Bucky couldn't resist such a sweet invitation; he reached down and brushed his fingers over Steve's throat. Steve let out another whimper and Bucky felt his vocal cords tremble under his fingers.

"They're so perky," Bucky continued softly, looking at Steve's nipples hungrily. "Stand out so nice against your tits. And how nice your tits stand out, doll, they're so round and plump."

"Sir," Steve whispered. 

"What are you allowed to call me, baby boy?" Bucky prompted gently, switching his gaze to meet Steve's. 

"Daddy," Steve corrected, ducking his gaze.

"Good boy," Bucky said, smiling at him. "What do you need, good boy?"

Steve flushed all over. He dropped his head a little, leaving his throat open to Bucky but averting his gaze, and he bit his lip hard, making the soft pink flesh go pale.

"What is it, doll?" Bucky repeated. "Daddy's not gonna make fun'a you or be mad or nothin', you just gotta ask for what you need."

"Can I sit –" Steve mumbled, hesitating. "I wanna – Can I –?"

"Can you, what?" Bucky prompted. 

"With you?" Steve blurted.

"Of course," Bucky said. "You can always sit with Daddy, honey, you wanna sit next to me or in my lap?"

Steve was blushing fiercely. "In Daddy's lap," he mumbled.

Bucky's blood flared hot. "Of course," he said. "Let's sit on the sofa, sweet boy."

Bucky got up and put the leash back on Steve, then pulled it to encourage Steve to shuffle forward. Steve moved on his knees around the chair to the couch, then Bucky crouched down and wrapped his arms around Steve's waist just under his bound arms.

"I'm gonna pick you up," Bucky said. "Relax."

Steve let his head drop against Bucky's shoulder. Bucky used his legs, made sure to keep his mouth shut as he lifted him; he did not want Steve thinking about his weight right then. Bucky lifted Steve onto his knee, then cradled his legs and transferred him onto the sofa, keeping him upright. Steve sat back on his heels while Bucky got onto the sofa and settled himself, then he shuffled closer to close the distance between them. Bucky put a hand on his waist, the other on his hip.

"Can you climb onto my lap or do you need Daddy to help you?" he asked.

"Help, Daddy," Steve said shyly.

"Of course," Bucky said. "Can I touch your bottom to lift you?"

Steve nodded. Bucky wrapped one arm around Steve's waist, then got a firm grip on his ass and pulled him in. Bucky quickly put his legs down in between Steve's knees and pulled him up his legs, settling Steve in his lap.

"You wanna lie down?" Bucky offered. 

Steve nodded quickly, biting his lip. Bucky helped Steve tip onto his knees, then lowered him down onto his chest so Steve could push his knees back. 

"I can untie you whenever," Bucky told Steve.

Steve shook his head, pressing his face into Bucky's neck. Like this, Bucky could feel Steve's hard-on and see a damp spot at the back of his underwear from his slick. Like this, Steve would also be able to feel Bucky's half-chub, which was growing quickly. 

Bucky was determined to ignore his dick and Steve's, too, until Steve asked for him to pay attention to it. He started petting Steve's hair again and also began petting down his spine.

"Daddy," Steve murmured, his breath ghosting Bucky's neck.

"What is it, sweet boy?" Bucky asked. 

Steve let out his breath audibly, then squirmed against Bucky's front. "I'm –" he mumbled, "I feel good, Daddy."

"'Cause you're bein' such a good boy," Bucky said. 

"I'm pretty?" Steve then added shyly. 

Bucky grinned. "Fuckin' gorgeous," he said. "Baby boy, your lips taste damn good, look even better. You smell so fucking good, too, doll, I could just eat you up."

Steve let out another soft breath, he squirmed again and definitely rubbed his crotch against Bucky's hip. 

"Are you feeling good, sweet boy?" Bucky asked with a fond smile. "Is Daddy making your body feel nice?"

"Uh-huh," Steve mumbled. 

His eyes were shut, his lips parted, and his blush was no longer fading. Bucky smelled precum as well as slick in the air and he had to restrain his instincts, which were telling him to either flip Steve and get a hand on his dick or pull him in tighter and shove a hand down his boxers. 

"Go ahead, sweet thing," Bucky murmured, "you make yourself feel as good as you want, Daddy's right here, Daddy's gonna keep tellin' you how pretty you are."

"'M pretty, Daddy," Steve said in a voice that was almost a whimper as he rolled his hips and rubbed his clothed dick against Bucky's hip.

"You are," Bucky said, continuing to pet Steve's hair but letting his other hand stop at the small of his back. "Daddy thinks your lips are so sweet, can you give Daddy a kiss?"

Steve turned his head, then lifted it and looked up. He brushed his lips almost shyly against Bucky's jaw, all he could reach, then ducked his head again and pressed it against Bucky's neck.

"Thank you, gorgeous," Bucky said, chuckling softly. "You give such nice kisses, your lips gotta been made for it."

Steve shivered in Bucky's arms, but Bucky could tell it wasn't cold. Steve let out a breathy sound, soft and high-pitched, grinding on Bucky still.

"You got such a pretty waist," Bucky said softly, lifting his left hand to touch him there. "So tiny, sweet thing, and those hips, could belong to a little boy like you."

"Da– _Daddy,_ " Steve whimpered. 

"Are you gettin' close, sunshine?" Bucky asked. "You can come whenever you want, sweet thing, whenever you feel like it, you been such a good boy tonight."

Steve sucked in his breath. Bucky watched his expression tighten, his eyebrows drawing together as his mouth dropped open, and he pressed hard against Bucky, no longer squirming. Bucky grabbed his waist and held him down, and that made Steve let out a long moan. He went limp. Bucky felt something wet between them.

"Did you just –" Bucky started, amazed, then grabbed Steve in a tight hug and pulled his head up by the hair to kiss him.

Steve moaned again under his lips and Bucky let himself be rough as he kissed him. He dug his fingers into Steve's back with one hand, the other he set about touching whatever bare skin he could reach, needing to transfer his scent onto Steve, needing to mark him.

"Daddy," Steve mumbled against Bucky's lips. "You… Want…"

"Daddy's got everything he wants," Bucky promised Steve quickly, nuzzling their foreheads and noses together. "You're such a sweet boy, baby, coming so easy like that for Daddy, I'm so proud of you."

Steve let out a soft whimper. Bucky grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it down over Steve.

"Daddy's happy with you," Bucky kept going, "you waited for me to say you had permission and you came like a good boy right when I told you you could, good boy, sweetheart, you're such a good boy."

Steve was definitely shivering now, his hands were twisting behind his back. Bucky pulled free the knot tying off the harness and easily slipped the ropes loose. Steve pulled his arms back and wrapped them around Bucky's neck, pressing his face against Bucky and breathing hard. Bucky released the ropes on his legs, too, and gently pushed each of his feet back to straighten out on the sofa. 

"Good boy," Bucky murmured again, kissing Steve's hair. "So proud of my good little boy."

Steve abruptly steadied his breathing. He pulled a hand back and touched Bucky's neck, then laid it flat on his chest, just over his heart. 

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly. "Please use me, sir."

Bucky almost drew his hand back. He took a breath, then cupped the back of Steve's head and pressed a slow, firm kiss to his forehead.

"Daddy doesn't need to use you, baby," he said gently, "you're not a toy. I'm happy just knowing you feel good, honey."

Steve sucked his breath back in hard. He shuddered deeply, then whimpered softly and wrapped his arm around Bucky's neck again. 

"Shh," Bucky murmured, stroking Steve's hair softly, "it's okay, baby, Daddy's got you. You're a good boy, sweetheart."

Steve sucked in his breath again and Bucky realized with a jolt that he was sobbing. He wrapped his arms tighter around him, cupping the back of his neck, and started rocking him.

"You're okay," Bucky repeated, "it's alright, honey, are you sad? Do you need something different?"

Steve shook his head sharply. Bucky kissed his hair.

"What's got you cryin', huh?" he asked softly. "Is my baby upset?"

"No!" Steve said immediately, then sniffed and rubbed his face against Bucky's neck. "I'm okay, Daddy, I'm – I'm good, I'm good ––"

"You are good," Bucky promised him. "And good boys tell their daddies whatever they need, so tell me what's got you crying, honey?"

"I'm _good,_ " Steve repeated, however. 

Bucky tilted his cheek against Steve's hair. Steve nuzzled him again, clinging to him. 

"You feel good?" Bucky said gently. "Is that it? You feel so good you gotta cry?"

Steve nodded. Bucky smiled softly and turned his head to kiss Steve's temple.

"I get it, baby," he murmured. "You go on 'n' cry, little boy, Daddy's proud of you."

Steve hiccuped. He sniffled and pulled a hand back to wipe his nose, so Bucky turned around and grabbed a tissue from the end table. He brought it back and wiped Steve's nose, then dried his cheeks with a thumb. Steve sniffed again and pressed his face into Bucky's neck, still trembling. Bucky dropped the used tissue onto the floor and cupped the back of Steve's head. 

"Daddy's proud of you, little boy," he murmured. "You obey me so well, I'm so happy that you told me everything you needed, everything you wanted, now you're lettin' out your tears like a good boy. You're so sweet for Daddy, babydoll."

Steve hiccuped again. Bucky kissed his hair and nuzzled him gently, letting his right hand drift down Steve's back slowly. 

"Are you happy, sweetheart?" Bucky asked. 

Steve nodded quickly, face still tucked into Bucky's neck.

"You feel good?"

Steve nodded again. He started to go limp on Bucky, his trembling faded as Bucky continued to pet down his back. 

After a while of silence, with Steve growing heavier as he relaxed, Bucky brought his hand around to touch Steve's cheek. Steve turned his head and lifted it a little to look at Bucky, blinking hazily.

"Are you hungry, sweet boy?" Bucky asked him. "Would you like Daddy to feed you?"

Steve smiled and nodded. 

"Alright, good boy," Bucky said, grinning back at him, "let's go into the kitchen, okay?"

Steve pushed up and sat back on his calves. Bucky sat up and scooted back, then got off the couch. He grabbed the leash and clipped it to Steve's collar again. 

"Would you like to crawl?" Bucky asked. 

Steve bit his lip, looking down, then shook his head. Bucky smiled and swept a hand through Steve's hair. 

"Then you can walk," he said, "c'mon, good boy."

Steve grinned, his cheeks pinking up. He unfolded his legs and stood up, then immediately attached to Bucky's arm and dropped his head on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and reached up to ruffle his hair again. 

"C'mon," he said, giving the leash a little tug.

Steve didn't even open his eyes to walk, he followed Bucky. Bucky was feeling humbled by Steve's trust, by how needy and sweet he was. Steve was everything Bucky had ever wanted. 

"Do you want to kneel or sit in Daddy's lap to eat?" Bucky asked. 

"Daddy's lap," Steve answered him softly. 

"Then you will," Bucky said. "Can you sit at the table by yourself while Daddy makes you your dinner?"

"It's lunchtime, Daddy," Steve chuckled, though he was sinking into a chair as he gave Bucky a cheeky smile. 

"Well, it's dinnertime for Daddy's schedule," Bucky said. "What do you wanna eat?"

Steve shrugged. He pulled his legs up and put his heels on the chair, hugged his legs and put his cheek on his knee. Bucky moved closer to him and brushed through his hair with light fingers. Steve smiled and leaned into him, humming softly. 

"How 'bout some soup?" Bucky asked. "That sound good?"

Steve nodded. Bucky bent down and kissed his hair, then gently scratched his scalp. 

"Wait right there, baby," he said.

Bucky pulled back, heading for the fridge. Steve rested his cheek on his knee again, he was still humming lightly, a happy little purr. Bucky shot him a smile, then opened the fridge and grabbed a container of Jewish penicillin. He shut the fridge with his foot, put the plastic container on the counter and opened a cupboard to grab bowls. He popped the lid and poured the soup right into the bowls, then took them to the microwave and put them in for the 5 minutes. He opened the fridge again and looked through it for something to drink.

"Do you like Keifer, doll?" Bucky asked.

Steve blinked at him. "Do I like what?"

"Keifer," Bucky repeated, grabbing the bottle and holding it up for Steve to see. 

"Huh?" Steve just said, lifting his head from his knee to drown at Bucky. 

Bucky let out a laugh. "It's a yogurt drink, honey. Tastes like a smoothie, kinda?"

Steve shrugged, looking bemused. Bucky grabbed a cup down from the cupboard, poured Keifer into it, then took it to the table and held it for Steve, touching the back of his head. Steve opened his mouth, his cheeks pinking up to match the color of the strawberry-yogurt drink, and Bucky held the cup to his lips, tilting it just a little so Steve could sip it.

Steve swallowed and lit up, humming happily. Bucky grinned and put the glass on the table, still holding Steve's neck.

"It's good for your tummy," Bucky said, reaching down and poking Steve's stomach. 

Steve let out a giggle and grabbed his knees again, hugging them tightly to guard his middle. Bucky dropped to a knee, grinning, and scratched his nails over Steve's waist. Steve laughed and dropped his elbow to cover himself, so Bucky tickled his back. 

"Uncle!" Steve said quickly. "Don't tickle me!"

"Aw, but you're so cute!" Bucky cooed, reaching up and pinching Steve's cheek. 

"Daddy!" Steve whined, giggling halfway through. 

Bucky pushed up and kissed Steve's cheek. Steve turned towards him, his lips parted, and Bucky just had to kiss those sweet lips. He cupped his cheek with one hand, his jaw with the other, and slid his tongue easily into Steve's open mouth. Under his lips, Steve moaned, and Bucky pulled him closer, kissing him languidly, savoring the taste of his mouth. 

The microwave beeped. Bucky broke the kiss, but Steve whined as he pulled back and grabbed onto his shoulder and neck. 

"You're okay, baby," Bucky murmured. "Daddy's just gotta grab our supper."

Steve locked his fingers behind Bucky's neck, whining still. Bucky stood up and wrapped his arms around Steve, leaning over him to rest his cheek against Steve's hair. Steve nuzzled his face against Bucky's stomach, pillowing his cheek on Bucky's beer gut. 

"You're sweet," Bucky said softly. "You need Daddy to hold you?"

Steve nodded. Bucky dropped a kiss onto his hair.

"I'm glad you're mine, honey," he said. "I'm glad you need me."

He felt Steve smile. Bucky started petting through his hair, moving slowly. They stayed still for a moment and across the kitchen, the microwave beeped again to remind them that their soup was ready.

“You still need a minute, honey?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged, then pulled his arms back. Bucky caught him by the chin and tilted his face up, making Steve look at him.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

Steve nodded, smiling lightly. Bucky bent and pressed a slow kiss to his lips, then brushed a thumb over his cheekbone and stepped away to get the bowls of soup. 

He put them on the table, grabbed spoons and a couple of paper towels, then pulled out another chair and sat. Bucky looked up at Steve, then patted his knee. Steve lifted his cheek off his knee, then just blinked at Bucky.

“C’mon,” Bucky said.

Steve leaned back, now looking at the chair suspiciously.

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky insisted. 

He patted his knee again. Steve slid off his chair, stepped in front of Bucky, and hesitated. Bucky, grinning, patted his knee a third time. Steve turned pink, set a hand on his shoulder, stepped between Bucky’s knees and put his cute little ass on Bucky’s thigh.

“There,” Bucky said with a grin, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist. “See how easy that was, doll?”

Steve, still pink, leaned on Bucky’s chest. “‘S gonna break,” he mumbled. “We’re heavy.”

“Nah,” Bucky said, “my buddy Happy Sam used these things as stools once ‘pon a time, the guy’s six seven and three hun’nerd somethin’ pounds, it ain’t gonna break under me an’ lil’ ole you, baby.”

Steve went pinker. Bucky grinned and pecked his cheek.

“How ‘bout that supper, huh?” he said, picking up a spoon. “Gonna be a good doll for Daddy an’ lemme feed you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Steve mumbled shyly.

Bucky pulled a bowl up and dipped the spoon in. In hindsight, he should’ve just gotten one bowl for the two of them. Oh, well.

*

Steve only had a vague grasp of time and a very short attention span while in subspace. He drifted off mentally while Bucky was feeding him, since he didn’t have to do anything other than obey Bucky’s commands and his whole brain wasn’t required for that. When Bucky was apparently satisfied that they were both fed, he had Steve get off his lap and then led him to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna give you a couple of options,” Bucky said, caging Steve against the counter and making him feel like squealing with how close Bucky was and how small it made him feel. “There’s a good little boy in this house that deserves a nice hot bubble bath, how ‘bout that, huh? You want a bath?”

Steve grinned, ducking his gaze, and nodded.

“‘Course you do,” Bucky said, chuckling at him. “Now, you can give yourself your bath and Daddy’ll wait outside the bathroom in case you need me. Or I can give you your bath, with the bubbles, honey, so you don’t gotta feel so exposed.”

Steve bit his lip. “Don’t wanna be alone,” he mumbled, his voice rough and pitched low as he looked down at where Bucky’s stomach was touching his.

“I bet you don’t,” Bucky answered him softly. “Option three, sweetheart. You can have your bath with Daddy.”

Steve pulled both lips between his teeth, thinking it over. Bucky touched his face and Steve pressed into his palm, nuzzling against him.

“It’s up to you, baby,” Bucky murmured. “Daddy’s gonna be just happy with whatever you want.”

Steve lifted his hands and brushed his fingers over Bucky’s chest hair. He dragged his fingertips through it, then brushed at the thickest patch of hair between his pecs, where the hairs curled outward. Bucky let out another chuckle.

“You havin’ fun, baby boy?” he asked.

Steve nodded a little. He closed the gap between them and put his head on Bucky’s shoulder, to look in and pet through his chest hair more. Bucky rested a hand on his waist and held him in. 

“Can I have my bath with you?” Steve asked softly.

“Yes, you may,” Bucky said. “Good boy, little honey.”

Steve snorted. Bucky hooked a finger under his chin and he looked up, still smiling. Bucky gave him a fond smile, then leaned in and pressed their lips together. Steve grinned against his kiss, then when Bucky broke it, he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s middle and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you for telling me everything you need,” Bucky murmured. “I’m real proud of you, sweetheart.”

Steve nuzzled his shoulder. Bucky touched his waist, then his shoulders and pushed him back. Steve leaned on the counter, blinking.

“You wait there and Daddy’s gonna draw our bath,” Bucky said. “Can you do that?”

“Yessir,” Steve mumbled, blushing. 

Bucky gave him a smile, tapped under his chin with a smile. Steve ducked his head, pressing the heels of his palms into the countertop. Bucky let him go and walked over to the bathtub. Steve glanced over the counter, wondering if he could sit on it, then decided against it and side-stepped to sit on the toilet. He leaned back, lifted his legs and hugged his knees. Bucky glanced back at him, smiled again, and ruffled Steve’s hair as he passed to grab something from the shelves opposite the sink.

Steve rested his cheek on his knee and watched Bucky get the tap running, pour bubbles into the water, and swirl everything around to build the bubbles. When it was half-full and the bubbles were thick, Bucky got up and dried his hands, turning back to Steve.

“Do you need help getting undressed, honey?” he asked. “Or do you want Daddy to step out?”

Steve shook his head and stuck his feet out. Bucky grinned at him, then knelt down and pulled one of Steve’s socks off.

“Look!” Bucky gasped, grabbing Steve’s barefoot. “Look at these cute toes!”

“Buck!” Steve laughed, yanking his foot away. “I’m not five!”

“How old are you, then?” Bucky asked, dropping his hands on his knees and smiling at him.

Steve bit his lip. He held out his other foot and wiggled his toes. Bucky chuckled, shook his head, and pulled off his other sock.

“‘M eleven,” Steve mumbled quietly.

“Yeah?” Bucky said, smiling at him again. “Well, your toes are still cute.”

Steve pulled his feet back and put them back on the toilet lid, hugging his knees again. Bucky stood up and walked up to him, so Steve dropped his legs and scooted forward so he could wrap around Bucky instead, resting his face in Bucky’s soft belly.

“You wanna take your shorts off, doll?” Bucky prompted him.

Steve felt his face heat up and he hid it in Bucky’s stomach, but he nodded. His gut was getting tight and his dick was filling up again. With his face smashed against Bucky’s belly, he felt sufficiently disguised, but he also was just above eye-level with the front of Bucky’s pants. So he pulled back, no longer hiding, and kissed Bucky’s stomach.

Bucky touched his hair and started to pet him. Steve hummed softly and nuzzled the skin in front of him.

“You’re gettin’ wet again,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve, blushing hard, nodded.

“You want Daddy to help you feel good in the bath?” Bucky added.

Steve nodded again quickly.

Bucky touched the back of his neck, then his hand moved around to cup his chin. Steve looked up.

“Use your words, honey,” Bucky told him. His eyes were dark.

Steve bit his lip, swallowing. “Please, Daddy?” he asked softly.

Bucky tapped his thumb against Steve’s chin. “Good boy,” he said. “Stand up.”

Steve got up. Bucky took his shoulders and repositioned him to stand in front of the tub, then stepped back. Steve folded his hands behind him, automatically falling into parade rest.

“You’re sure you want me to join you?” Bucky asked him then. “I can wash you without gettin’ in with you, remember?”

“I want you,” Steve mumbled, dropping Bucky’s gaze. “I want you to – to –”

Bucky touched his cheek. “It’s alright, doll.”

Steve swallowed, his throat tight, and nodded. “I want you to feel good, too,” he said finally. “It makes me feel – Pretty.”

Bucky closed in on him again, cupping his chin and lifting his face. Steve met Bucky’s gaze and felt frozen by it.

“You’re not a toy,” Bucky told him gently. “I’m not gonna touch you in any way you’re not ready for. I won’t touch you at all if you don’t make me sure you want it.”

Steve released his wrists from behind his back and reached forward, hooking a finger into the waistband of Bucky’s jogging pants.

“I want you to get in with me,” he said. “And I want to make you feel good.”

Bucky cupped his face with both hands, then pulled him in and kissed his forehead. Steve slipped all four fingers into Bucky’s waistband and gave it a little tug.

“You can make Daddy feel good, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. “You do make me feel good, I promise.”

“In the bath,” Steve insisted.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed. “Alright.”

Bucky let go of his face, stepped back, and lifted one leg to tug a sock off. He switched legs, this time grabbing onto the counter for support before yanking off his sock, then stood on both feet and put his hands on his waistband. Steve looked down, feeling dizzy and high and floaty, all at once. He bit his lip.

Bucky pushed his pants down. He grabbed his boxers belatedly, then bent double and tugged the cuffs off his legs. He stood up again, kicking his clothes to the side. Steve zeroed in on his dick, then let out a quiet whimper. 

Bucky was fucking _hung._ He was partially hard already, his cock standing up between his legs and the head bobbed up and down in the air from the momentum of being released from Bucky’s clothing. Eyeballing it, it looked around seven or eight inches, an inch and a half across at the head.

Bucky hastily covered his dick with a hand; or attempted to, his hand barely covered half. Steve, even more hastily and very impulsively, dropped to his knees and knocked Bucky’s hand out of the way. He wrapped a hand around Bucky’s deflated knot, picked it up, and opened his mouth before he really processed what he was doing. He shoved Bucky’s cockhead into his mouth and swiped his tongue over and into the slit.

“Shit!” Bucky gasped, grabbing Steve’s hair. “Stevie, baby –”

Steve popped off for a brief second, cognizant enough to know what he wanted.

“Shush,” he said, and filled his mouth again.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky replied. “Stevie…”

Steve just hummed, not wanting to pull off again. Bucky’s dick tasted fantastic and Steve could already feel the sweet lightheadedness he got from choking himself on a cock; hell, the high of subspace just doubled as Steve filled his mouth with Bucky’s dick. He rubbed his tongue under the head, swallowed precum, and let the tip pop out of his mouth so he could mouth down the shaft, licking everything to get it wet and reveling in how Bucky’s skin tasted. He smelled heady this close up and Steve buried his nose at the base of his knot to inhale deeply and let his brain go haywire from all the Alpha pheromones.

“Stevie,” Bucky repeated, sounding much too calm, “you’re not just trying to be a good boy, right? ‘Cause you don’t –”

“I like dick,” Steve said plainly, cutting Bucky off. “Shuddup, Daddy.”

Bucky let out a strangled laugh. Steve spat into his hand, wrapped it around Bucky’s knot, and fit his cockhead back in his mouth to start bobbing his mouth and jacking him off at the same time. Bucky gripped his hair, then gave a light tug and Steve moaned. He sank his mouth as deep onto Bucky’s dick as he could, let his throat relax, pulled back and tried to take more. It had been a while since he’d given head, longer since it had been a dick this big, but Steve was determined to swallow Bucky to the fucking root. 

“You’re a fucking marvel,” Bucky said above him, his voice strained at last. “Fucking _shit,_ honey. Holy fucking _shit._ ”

Steve hummed, pleased this time. He pulled back just enough to comfortably begin fucking his own face and grabbed Bucky’s hip with his free hand, then let go of his knot so he could grab his hips with both hands and bob his head, pressing Bucky’s dick into the back of his throat with each drop down. 

“Baby boy, you keep that up, you’re gonna make me come,” Bucky said. 

Steve opened his eyes, blinked away water, and looked up. He nodded as best he could, then let his eyes shut again, moaning, as his throat gave to Bucky’s cockhead. He got his lips over Bucky’s knot, which was puffing up a little, and pressed his nose into his pubes. His head was spinning in the most delicious way. He swallowed compulsively and Bucky let out a hissed curse and grabbed at his hair with both hands. Steve backed off again, pressing his tongue up as he dragged his mouth off Bucky’s length. He took a breath once his throat wasn’t blocked, then pushed back to the root and fucked his throat for a moment.

“ _Shit,_ ” Bucky gasped. “ _Shit,_ Stevie, you’re a fucking _expert,_ oh my _God –_ ”

Steve moaned. He clenched his thighs together, but didn’t even want to touch himself. He got a breath and went right back to fucking his throat, dizzy and feeling high. 

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, tugging on Steve’s hair, “fuck, baby, pull off, pull off –”

Steve drew back and let Bucky’s dick pop out from between his lips, pausing to lick a trail of saliva from the tip. Bucky grabbed his leash and yanked up and Steve stood up, for Bucky to crush him against his chest and kiss him aggressively. Steve let out another moan and went limp, fumbling to grab onto Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky broke the kiss, but just to drag his lips down Steve’s neck, kissing and sucking. Steve threw his head back, sighing happily.

“I’ll let you make me come after our bath,” Bucky panted against Steve’s neck in between kisses. “After. Fucking _shit,_ little boy, you gotta warn me next time.”

Steve let out a giggle, half a snort, and wrapped tightly around Bucky, happily rolling his front against Bucky’s sloppy dick. Bucky let out a low growl, his hand grabbing the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve gasped softly as his whole body went limp.

“You’re a fuckin’ angel,” Bucky murmured, his voice rough and deep and it made Steve shiver, so close to his ear and so breathy. “Daddy’s little boy likes sucking cock?” Bucky said. “That gets you wet, sweet thing?”

Steve whined, nodding quickly. He _was_ wet, his cock was throbbing and he kept squeezing his ass, trying to milk his own prostate. Bucky dragged a hand down his back and grabbed his ass with a rough hand; Steve let out a little whimper.

“Can I take your shorts off, babydoll?” Bucky asked. “Can I touch you?”

Steve’s breath hitched. He dug his nails into Bucky’s shoulders and clenched his hole, thinking about Bucky’s fingers opening him up. The thick cock he’d just had in his throat sinking into him, stretching him, burning with the ache, tearing –

“No,” Steve whispered, trembling all over. “Daddy – I’m – Sorry –”

Bucky let go of his ass to grab the back of his neck instead. “Shh,” he murmured, pulling Steve’s head into his neck. “‘S alright, honey, you’re safe. Daddy won’t touch you if you’re not ready.”

Steve shivered violently. He pressed his face into Bucky’s neck, the anxiety that had overwhelmed him making his heart thud almost painfully against his ribs. He could forget that he was huge now, that he was massive and bulky and stuck out like a sore thumb in the Omega’s section in department stores, because his chest was tight and his mind was muddled and he couldn’t quite pin down what was frightening him. Bucky just began to stroke his hair.

“Daddy’s got you,” he said softly, “you’re safe, you’re not a toy. You’re okay.”

Steve nodded. He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry, and pushed his arms around Bucky’s waist.

“‘S been a while,” he mumbled in a low tone. “Longer than – Than anything else. I’m – My cunt’s sensitive, used to bleed all the time, hurts –”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said sweetly, “Daddy doesn’t mind, baby, it’s always up to you, Daddy doesn’t mind.”

Steve intentionally held his breath, then let it out slowly. He inhaled again and relaxed. His chest loosened. Bucky kissed his hair.

“You wanna get in the bath?” he offered.

Steve nodded. He felt sleepy now, but Bucky’s dick was still hard between them and he wanted to be good, to please. After the bath, he remembered. Bucky had Steve step back, then took off his collar and leash. Steve cupped his throat, feeling oddly naked, as Bucky knelt and touched Steve’s hips, his boxers.

“Can I take this off?” he asked. 

Steve nodded. Bucky pulled them down and Steve’s dick popped up when it was free, but Bucky didn’t seem to notice or care that it was in his face. Steve hugged himself, feeling cold, then Bucky sat down on the edge of the bathtub and swung his legs in.

“C’mere,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand. “You can sit in Daddy’s lap or we can face each other?”

“Lap,” Steve answered, stepping into the water. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Of course,” Bucky said, sliding off the edge of the tub and into the water. He opened his arms and spread his knees apart. “C’mere, honey.”

Steve did choose to face him; he sat on his hip and leaned into Bucky, pillowing his head on Bucky’s chest. The water was warm and rose above his shoulders and Steve wondered absently how they even managed to both fit into the tub.

Bucky started to pour water into Steve’s hair by the palmful. Steve turned his back to him and leaned his head back, baring his throat. Bucky covered it with a hand and Steve let out his breath. He felt Bucky’s erection behind him, but feeling it didn’t bring back the tightness in his chest or the thud to his heartbeat. He felt good now.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky offered.

Steve inhaled before he nodded. He turned his head to the side and tucked his nose into Bucky’s neck, breathing him in. The pheromones in his scent still made him feel small and young and dizzy. But above all, Bucky’s scent made Steve feel safe.

“I kinda got conditioned to sex hurting,” he said quietly. “Anal sex, I mean. I didn’t get wet right before the serum and my Master didn’t use oil usually.”

“Baby,” Bucky answered just as softly. “That’s – That’s horrible.”

Steve lifted a shoulder. “I was okay,” he claimed.

“That’s not okay,” Bucky insisted, however. “If you’re still – If you’re still having anxiety about it _now,_ that’s not okay!”

Steve’s chest did tighten again. He turned and nuzzled against Bucky’s throat, letting out an involuntary whine. Bucky quickly wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him.

“I don’t mean that you’re bad,” he said. “I mean that your Master was bad. Sweetheart, this guy – He sounds like an _asshole,_ and that’s an insult to assholes.”

Steve lifted a shoulder. “He was okay,” he said.

“Steve,” Bucky started, his voice sounding controlled, “that’s – No, honey, that’s not okay.”

Steve pulled his arms up and hugged himself, sinking into the water. He hid his face in Bucky’s stomach.

“How did you get collared by that guy?” Bucky asked.

Steve didn’t really want to answer that. Peggy hadn't like the answer, and he doubted Bucky would have anything less than the same reaction.

“He found me,” Steve said quietly. “While I was in heat one time. He took me home and took care of me.”

“He found you,” Bucky repeated.

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “Like – Like you did. Sort of.”

“ _Sort of?_ ” Bucky echoed again.

Steve hid his face. “I don’t remember,” he said. “Mister Ronan – He said I left the window open, he just wanted to make sure I was safe.”

“What did he do?” Bucky asked. 

He sounded almost angry. Steve let out a whine and nuzzled against him, demure and submissive in the face of the sharp spike in Bucky’s scent.

Bucky hushed him then and drew him closer, kissing his hair. “It’s alright, honey,” he murmured, “Daddy’s not mad at you, Daddy’s mad _for_ you. You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t like thinking about it, baby, Daddy doesn’t have to know. I’m just – It scares me.”

Steve lifted his gaze. Bucky cupped his cheek.

“Yeah,” he said. “You – You talk about the stuff this guy did to you like you were fine with it, but every time you do, you smell like fear and I can tell you really aren’t fine with it. That scares me.”

Steve blinked, then hid his face again. “I don’t like thinking about it,” he admitted shamefully.

Bucky hugged him tightly. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “Daddy’s got you. Daddy’ll keep you safe. And I’ll never hurt you the way Ronan hurt you, baby, _never._ ”

Steve nuzzled against Bucky’s stomach, still trying to be soft and non-threatening and trying not to really think about the fact that Bucky’s gentle questions were fair. 

“He never _hit_ me,” he mumbled. “He never – never beat me.”

“Honey,” Bucky said softly, “abuse doesn’t have to be from a fist.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and tried to tamp down his emotions. He’d been feeling good and he’d fucked it up, he’d brought up shit from the past and made Bucky uncomfortable and now both of them were feeling shitty and if Steve had just kept his mouth shut and let Bucky finger his ass –

“Baby,” Bucky murmured against his hair, “you’re not a toy. Can you hear me?”

Steve nodded jerkily.

“You’re not a toy,” Bucky repeated. “Daddies don’t play with their little boys like toys, daddies take care of their boys, ‘cause a sweet little boy like you is a gift, honey. You’re a gift to me.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled.

“Anytime you’re worried or upset or uncomfy,” Bucky continued, “you say so immediately, okay? ‘Cause good boys say when they don’t like something, an’ any rule that Ronan fucker told you otherwise is fucking bullshit.”

Steve bit his lip. He pressed his face against Bucky’s stomach, then nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Bucky pressed a firm kiss to his hair. Steve was starting to relax in the hot water, nasty thoughts and anxiety put aside. He felt tired, he felt thirsty, and he still felt dizzy on Bucky’s scent and touch.

“Still wanna suck you,” he mumbled.

Bucky let out a little laugh and kissed his hair again. “Only if you’re sure you really want to, honey, I won’t mind if you don’t.”

“Wanna,” Steve said, yawning. “Wanna feel pretty.”

“You are pretty,” Bucky told him softly.

Steve hummed a little. “Sleepy, Daddy.”

“You be sleepy, then, baby boy,” Bucky told him. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to get out of the bath.”

Steve nodded. He felt warm, he felt safe even though the past had knocked hard on the glass walls inside his memory. It felt easy to trust Bucky. It had never been easy to relax in Ronan’s presence. 

Bucky cupped water in his palm and poured it over Steve’s hair, slowly wetting it. Just as slowly, Steve actually fell asleep.

Steve roused halfway from sleep when Bucky murmured in his ear that it was time to get out, but he never really became fully conscious as he got out and Bucky dried him off. The next thing he knew, he was collapsing into bed and being wrapped in a pair of strong arms, pulled into a warm embrace. It was so easy to fall back asleep.

And then he was awake again, jerking his eyes open as somewhere, his phone was blaring the alarm that meant he needed to report to base. Steve pushed up, disoriented at first by the dark green walls and the layout of the room, but then Bucky let out a rumbling snore in his sleep and Steve relaxed, lying back in bed and tucking himself back in Bucky’s arms. Bucky snorted, then seemed to reach out in his sleep and grab Steve by the waist, pulling him in and shoving his nose into his hair. Steve smiled, intent on falling asleep again.

Then his phone rang again and Steve was jerked awake again, remembering what had woken him in the first place. With a sigh, he turned on his back and started to get up.

Bucky let out another snort and Steve froze, looking back. Bucky turned onto his back, blinking, and squinted at Steve.

“‘S the fire alarm going off?” he mumbled.

“No,” Steve whispered, “it’s my phone.”

“Who’s calling you?” Bucky groaned, grabbing Steve’s wrist and pulling him back. “They can fuck right off.”

“It’s SHIELD,” Steve said, gently pulling his wrist from Bucky’s grip. “I have to go.”

Bucky squinted at him again. Steve bit his lip, glancing up towards the bedroom door. His phone was out there somewhere and he needed to respond.

“I have to go,” Steve repeated.

Bucky let go of his wrist. “Okay,” he said, exhaling the word. Then he held out his hand, inviting, and Steve, confused, pressed his cheek into it. Bucky patted him, smiling, then reached down and grabbed his collar. He tugged him back in and Steve obeyed; he hadn't even realized Bucky had put his collar back on him before they went to sleep. Bucky pulled Steve into a kiss, then cupped the back of his neck and held him there for a minute.

“My dog tags are in the nightstand drawer,” Bucky mumbled. “Wear ‘em?”

Steve smiled, already feeling a weight coming off his shoulders. He pressed another kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“I will,” he said. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek and rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone for a moment, then let him go. Steve slid out of bed, then walked around to Bucky’s side and opened the nightstand drawer. His phone was still blaring, but Steve wanted this first. He had to dig around for a moment, but found Bucky’s dog tags near the back. The metal jangled as he lifted them. Steve draped them over his neck, then touched a hand to where they rested over his heart. He glanced at the bed and found Bucky watching him. He reached out and Bucky took his hand, pulling it in to kiss it.

“Go save the world, kid,” Bucky said in a sleep-roughened voice. “Daddy’ll be here when you get home.”

Steve forced a smile. He squeezed Bucky’s hand, then pulled it away. He reached up and unbuckled his collar, reluctantly slipping it from his neck. He put it on the nightstand, then, with one last longing glance to Bucky and the warm bed that felt safe, he slipped out into the living room.

His phone was on the floor by the couch. Steve bent to grab it and Bucky’s dog tags swung forward, hitting his hand as he picked up his phone. Steve sat down on the floor to answer the call, which only said Blocked Number.

_“The fuck took you so long, Cap?”_ Rumlow demanded. _“Were you balls-deep or something? Whatever, I don’t care, get your shit, I texted you the address you need to meet us at.”_

“On my way,” Steve answered in a clipped, professional tone.

He dropped his phone and ended the call, then let out his breath and looked at himself. He was totally naked, he felt cold, and he didn’t want to deal with Rumlow’s bullshit Alpha confidence or, as the dick was obviously in a bad mood, stand up to his challenges and bite back. Steve glanced over his shoulder to the bedroom door still slightly ajar, to a warm bed and his Daddy who would snuggle him as he fell asleep again, then sighed and got up. He grabbed his pants from the floor and shoved himself up. He walked into them, grabbed his phone, and headed downstairs. He prepared himself mentally as he walked, and by the time he was wearing the stealth suit, scent-blocking patches slapped on his glands, and he had the shield on his back, he’d shut down all of his emotions.

Steve got on his bike and kicked it to life. He’d shut down his emotions, but he couldn’t help the growing ache between his shoulderblades that always came from carrying the shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _just a reminder, there is no Hydra in this timeline, so the assholes are assholes purely for the fuckery_


	12. Well, Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _well, fuck_

#  _12: Well, Fuck_

  


Bucky woke up groggy Tuesday night. He rolled over and saw the collar he’d just given Steve on the nightstand and it took him a second to process why Steve wasn’t wearing it and why both of them weren’t in bed with him. He remembered Steve waking him up during the night and some kind of alarm going off. Steve had a mission. He took Bucky’s dog tags, but left the collar. Bucky let out his breath and flopped around in bed until he was on his front.

He didn’t want to get out of bed, he didn’t work until 6 o’clock on Wednesday night, and he didn’t have anything he needed to do. Bucky pulled the blankets over himself again and tried falling back asleep.

It didn’t work very well. His back was acting up again and Bucky suspected it was because he neglected to grab a pillow to hug instead of Steve when he left the bed, so his shoulders had folded uncomfortably. He wasn’t in enough pain to warrant rolling over and getting out the Advil, though Sam would argue that it was easily enough, since it was keeping him awake. And being awake, Bucky got to think about how nice it had been to hold Steve at last. 

He was still worried about Steve’s missions. He’d been gone a whole month last time. What if he was gone another month? What would Bucky do then? What if Steve dropped while he was gone, it was his first scene in almost a year, how would Bucky be able to get to him if he was in Chile or Czechoslovakia?

Bucky pressed his face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. What if he dropped?

*

Steve gritted his teeth. “We’re going with _my_ plan because I’m the CO,” he hissed out.

“What, you can’t take criticism all of a sudden?” Rumlow asked, then laughed. “What the fuck is wrong with you these days, Cap?”

Steve forced himself to breathe. He was having a hard time keeping his emotions locked in their corner.

“If you want to continue this testosterone fest,” he snapped, “I will gladly teach you a fucking lesson, Agent, but I actually need you here and not on medical leave recovering from the beat down.”

A few other STRIKE agents chuckled. Rumlow clenched his jaw, but didn’t say another word.

“Fine,” Steve continued in a short tone. “As I was saying…”

*

Bucky knocked on Doctor Cho’s open door, lingering just outside the office. Cho held up a finger, then resumed typing at a speed that made Bucky wonder if a keyboard was supposed to be that loud. 

“Alright, we’re good,” Cho announced, swiveling her chair around to give Bucky a smile. “My favorite APRN, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if I could discuss my schedule with you,” Bucky started. “If you’re busy –”

“No, no, now’s fine,” Cho said. “Please don’t tell me you need _more_ hours, I might have to force you to take up some of the weeks of vacation time you’ve collected in the past four years if you try doing seventy hours a week.”

“No,” Bucky laughed. “Opposite, actually.”

Cho clapped her hands to her temple. “James Barnes wants to _reduce_ his weekly hours? Am I hearing this right?”

“Ehh,” Bucky said, laughing. “Yeah.”

Cho let out a laugh and leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, we can definitely arrange that, I know a few newbs who have been fishing for more hours. What are you thinking?”

“Maybe no more sixteen-hour shifts,” Bucky said.

“Maybe,” Cho said, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe just fifteen hours.”

“That’d do it,” Bucky agreed with a laugh. “Actually, I was hoping I could get some tens?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Cho said, her smile growing warmer. “Did you finally get a life, James?”

“I have a Sub?” Bucky said hesitantly.

Cho grinned, nodding. “Congrats,” she said. “I’ll pawn off your twenty or so hours of overtime on the newbs.”

“Thanks, doc,” Bucky said, stepping back from the doorway. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Cho told him. “Are you off?”

“Yeah, gotta run by the store,” Bucky admitted. “Not going home just yet.”

“Well, tell your Submissive you should have more time at home,” Cho said with a wave. “Have a good day!”

“You, too,” Bucky said, stepping out of her doorway with a smile.

He walked away with his hands in his pockets. Outside, he checked his phone. Steve had texted him two days ago to let him know he was alive, but Bucky hadn't had anything since. It had been two weeks. Bucky felt almost guilty knowing that he was reducing his workload when Steve wouldn’t be home anytime soon. He wanted to be prepared, in case Steve came home unexpectedly.

Bucky always looked out hopefully for Steve’s bike when he turned the corner onto their block. Like the past two weeks, it wasn’t there. Bucky headed upstairs, dragging his feet. He dumped his groceries and put them away in a daze, took a shower in a daze, and just collapsed in bed, falling asleep. 

He woke up with a jerk to his alarm going off at 7:30. Bucky groaned and rolled out of bed; his body sounded like a bowl of Rice Krispies and felt like he’d been through a meat tenderizer. He should probably use some of his new free time to see a chiropractor.

Bucky checked his phone. He had a flash of excitement when he saw he had a text from Steve, then it died almost immediately when he read it; _En route to dark mission, can’t communicate until it’s over. Miss you._

Bucky typed back _I miss you too, baby,_ and sent it before he could add _I love you_ like a crazy person. He got out of bed, stretched and his spine snapped, crackled, and popped.

“Maybe I should use that vacation time,” he grumbled. “Steve should have vacation time. We should go on vacation.”

He unlocked his phone again and texted Steve his new thought, as he’d developed a habit of doing. He scrolled back over the conversation, seeing mostly his thoughts, the occasional reply from Steve. He hoped Steve liked the idea of a vacation, because he could really use one.

*

Steve lay flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Across the room, Rumlow was snoring. Steve’s glands were itching under the scent-blockers and he was almost sure he knew what that meant.

He was fucking tired, he hadn't slept since getting locked in the safe house with Rumlow and half of the rest of the team. They were stuck there for another few days until they could be safely extracted and Steve had been on edge ever since. The house only had a few rooms and Steve couldn’t insist he have his own without being too suspicious. So he bunked with Rumlow and the two new guys. All three of them were testosterone-filled Alphas and Rumlow particularly made Steve want to gag. He smelled like gasoline and grease, and Steve wasn’t sure if that was because he hadn't showered in a week or because he just naturally smelled like fuel. Either way, Steve’s nose was nearly burning and his skin was itching under the patches he kept reapplying like mad.

He couldn’t put in for a week off in the safe house, because he couldn’t break the no-communication rule. He’d crushed one of the new guys' phones because they were trying to text their girl back home. Steve couldn’t be a hypocrite.

He wanted to scratch his neck, but that was a terrible idea. Some of the guys had already complained that while the rest of them reeked, he still smelled unoffensive. Steve would’ve thought that would have been a cause for joy, but the team seemed to take it as an affront to their personal body odor. He would’ve liked nothing more than to rip off the scent-blocking patches and bury his nose in his own wrists so he didn’t have to keep smelling Rumlow’s gasoline scent, but, bad plan. Not only would the team notice that he smelled remarkably unoffensive, but he would also start smelling remarkably _attractive._ And that was exactly why Steve hadn't slept the whole three days he’d been there.

If he fell asleep, he wouldn’t know who was touching him. Awake, eyes open and hand clenched tightly over a combat knife, he could see them coming. He could see who it was.

Steve kept trying not to think back to before the war. Lying on the floor in the cold surrounded by the stink of a dozen unwashed Alphas, it was rather difficult. His memory had gotten sharper in hindsight and olfactory memory was nearly perfect, even when it came to times he’d been drugged or too feverish to know what was happening.

Steve just lay awake.

*

“How’s Steve?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Still on the no-contact mission.”

“It’s been, like, a week and a half,” Sam said, frowning.

Bucky shrugged again. “He’ll text me when he can.”

“That’s gotta suck,” Sam added.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But. Yannow. He can take care of himself with both hands tied behind his back. I know he’s safe.”

“Knowing and believing are different things,” Sam pointed out.

Bucky glared at him. “Why do you _have_ to be so fucking wise?” he snapped.

Sam raised his hands in defense. “I only took four years of psych classes to get this smart, don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“That’s not even remotely applicable,” Bucky groaned.

Sam laughed at him. “Take some vacation time when Steve gets home like you said you would, promise me.”

Bucky nodded. Refused to think _if._

*

Steve caught himself scratching his wrist. He yanked his hand away and shoved into his pocket, trying not to let his face go hot as his scent gland burned with the itch.

“What’s eating you?” New Guy #3 asked him, waving his truly awful smelling tuna sandwich.

“Nothing,” Steve snapped. “Do you have to perfume the whole place with that?”

New Guy #3 swallowed his cheek full of food and blinked. Rollins glanced in Steve’s direction, then elbowed him in the ribs lightly. He probably meant it to be playful, but Steve was achy from the itch under his skin and he had to hold in a gasp of pain. No one seemed to notice.

“Relax,” Rumlow said, “that shit’s nuke-proof, it can’t hurt nobody.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking _stink,_ ” Steve gritted out.

“So what?” Rumlow asked. “We all stink! Even the great Captain America’s got some BO! Relax!”

Steve shoved up from his chair and stormed out. His hands were shaking and his skin was burning under his collar. If SHIELD didn’t pick them up in the next 24 hours, Steve was going AWOL. Maybe even in the next 12 hours. 6. Steve couldn’t sit still, his uniform chafed him everywhere, and his scent glands would not stop itching no matter how many patches he put on them. He’d grabbed someone’s Icy Hot and tried using that to cool himself off but it had just burned; he’d spent half an hour in the bathroom trying to get the feeling off him. 

It was boiling in the safe house, which only made matters worse. He was the only one still fully dressed, everyone else was just wearing their pants and undershirts, or no shirt at all in the case of Rumlow, who kept obnoxiously working out in the middle of the living room and making the whole _house_ stink like him. Steve was going to start biting heads off soon.

Or, of course, there was the even worse option, he could collapse and go into heat surrounded by a dozen Alphas who all, at the moment, were irritated with him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

*

Bucky called Natasha after another two days of radio silence.

_“Am I his handler?”_ Natasha answered his question irritably. _“He’s in a safe house, they’re waiting on extraction.”_

“How long’s he been there?” Bucky asked.

_“Five days? It shouldn’t be long now.”_

“Right,” Bucky mumbled. “Thanks.”

Natasha hung up on him. She usually did. Bucky had stopped caring.

*

The bus came in the nick of time. Steve was the first one on it and he locked himself in one of a tiny compartment before anyone could ask him why he was sweating so much or tell him yet again to just take his uniform off. When he felt the jet lift into the air, he turned on his phone. His hands were shaking. He texted Fury first, because he didn’t know what else to do, and just said he needed to be allowed to go straight home after landing in New York, unless he wanted every Alpha in the area rutting and the whole world to know Captain America was an Omega. Fury replied simply with _OK._

Steve, trembling a little less with the locked door between him and the Alphas, switched to his conversation with Bucky. His thumbs hit a lot of the wrong keys, but he cleaned up the typos before sending the message. He started with the address they’d be dropped at and followed it with _Meet me there, six hours, IDK. Heat._

Then he dropped his phone and fell back against the wall, yanking open the neck of his uniform and exposing his throat to the cool air. He swallowed and tried to ignore how dry his mouth was. If he could just keep himself from going from fever to full-blown heat in the six or so hours it would take to get back to New York, he’d be fine. The scent-blockers would disguise the smell of his pre-heat and the locked door would keep him safe. There was nothing Steve could put in front of it to barricade it, so he took out a knife and held it at the ready. Just in case. 

*

Bucky was barely asleep when his phone pinged. He groaned, rolled over to check it, and squinted for a long moment before his eyes adjusted and he saw that he had a text from Steve. Bucky sat bolt upright and unlocked his phone, opening the text immediately.

There was an address. Bucky frowned at it for a second, then a second text came through. 

_Meet me there, six hours, IDK. Heat._

“Shit,” Bucky said, scrambling to get out of bed.

He called the hospital while throwing on clothes; he needed to buy food and condoms, he had to get going. He fumbled with dialing the extension for the ICU, but got there before he got into his jeans.

_“Brooklyn General ICU, this is Alysha.”_

“I need to talk to whoever’s running the shift,” Bucky started, yanking on socks. “This is Barnes, Bucky Barnes.”

_“One sec, babe.”_

Bucky pinned the phone between his ear and shoulder to shove his feet into shoes. He went to do up his zipper, fumbled that, too, and caught his dick in it. He let out a shout and almost fell over, dropping the phone. He scrambled to get it and sank to the floor, holding the front of his boxers and trying not to whimper.

_“Hey, Bucky,”_ Ryan’s familiar voice answered. _“What’s up?”_

“I gotta call out,” Bucky said. “My Omega’s season hit. Uh, his cycle’s pretty whack, we don’t know how long it’s gonna be.”

_“Alright, that’s fine,”_ Ryan said. _“I’ll give you six days, and I’ll take care of coverage, don’t worry about it. Call back if you need more time.”_

“Thanks,” Bucky said, feeling a little bit relieved. “Bye.”

_“Bye, have fun!”_

Bucky hung up and dropped the phone. He fell sideways and let himself whimper a little. He wallowed for a second before getting up, zipping his jeans more carefully, and going to find shoes.

He was almost out the door before he realized he needed a shirt. Bucky clapped himself in the forehead and ran back.

*

Steve lost track of time. He zoned in and out, feeling hazy and exhausted, the past six days of no sleep catching up to him at last when he no longer had the constant pump of anxiety to keep him awake; it was just a vague alarm in the back of his head now. His scent glands were just burning now, no longer itching, which was a bad sign. His clothes made his skin ache. He was starting to get wet, which was worse. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Then somebody banged on the door. Steve jumped to his feet, knife at the ready, panting as he looked around wildly. The door remained shut.

“I know you’re in there, Cap!” Rumlow shouted. “It’s time you quit hiding, we gotta debrief!”

Steve swallowed hard. He couldn’t answer that. He couldn’t leave the tiny room.

“Cap!” Rumlow shouted again. “C’mon, man, we’ve been waiting on you for five hours!”

Steve dove for his phone and checked the time. He hissed a curse under his breath and scrambled to check their location and distance to New York, then sent an update to Bucky. He felt like calling, wondering if it would help if he heard Bucky’s voice or if he could just break down in terrified tears, but did neither.

“Cap!” Rumlow shouted a third time, sounding truly angry now. “C’mon, you fuckin’ pussy, get out here!”

Steve shoved his hand into his mouth and bit down to keep himself from snapping back that his pussy took offense to being related to an insult. Rumlow _wished_ he could get pussy like Steve’s. He felt dizzy and sat down.

“Fucking…” he heard Rumlow mutter, then his footsteps retreated.

Steve picked up his phone again and texted Fury about getting the team off his back. Fury didn’t answer. Steve dropped his head back against the wall and let his throat work as he tried to generate some saliva to moisten his mouth.

He just needed to hold out another half hour. Bucky would meet him at the hanger and he’d take him home. He’d be safe with Bucky.

*

Bucky couldn’t take Steve home on the subway or through the streets and he didn’t trust a cab, so he had exactly one option.

_“You don’t drive,”_ Becca answered him flatly.

“I can drive,” Bucky claimed.

_“You don’t have a license!”_ Becca insisted.

“I need a car,” Bucky countered.

_“Shit, if you’re this desperate, I’ll drive you myself. What the fuck are you freaking out over, anyway? You’re not late to work, you just got off –”_

“I gotta pick up Steve,” Bucky said, then sighed. “And he’s in heat or going into heat.”

_“Um.”_

Bucky covered his face.

_“Steve, your neighbor?”_

“He’s on his way back from a mission, I have to take him home, I need a car that isn’t driven by a stranger,” Bucky insisted.

_“Steve your neighbor is Captain America!”_ Becca almost shouted.

“Yeah, and he’s in heat!” Bucky snapped. “Get over the shock, can you drive us?”  


Becca was quiet for a second. _“Shit, yeah,”_ she said then. _“Yikes.”_

“Yikes,” Bucky agreed wearily.

*

The jet engines cut out. Steve didn’t even realize they’d touched down, he was so out of it. He wasn’t sure if he’d gone into full heat, he was focusing too much on controlling his panic to think about that. He pushed to his feet, his knees threatening to buckle, and checked his phone. Bucky was waiting outside. Steve let out a heavy breath.

“Cap, you gotta come out now!” someone shouted from the other side of the door.

“Maybe he hit his head,” someone else said.

“Maybe he’s asleep, freak didn't the whole time we were in that shithole.”

Steve fell back against the wall to wait. He couldn’t walk out with all of the team out there. He suddenly wished he’d asked Natasha if she was in town, she could’ve gotten on the jet and helped him get out without anyone knowing. He’d just have to wait.

He dropped onto the floor again, leaning against the corner now. He shut his eyes and resumed his breathing exercises. In, hold it, out. Seven seconds, three seconds, seven, three. He could focus on that.

“Steve?!”

Steve sat upright and got dizzy immediately. Bucky was outside.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rumlow’s voice demanded.

“Uh, Cap’s neighbor?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Where is he?”

“Might’a jumped off the plane, far as I know. Get outta here before you get arrested, this shit’s top secret.”

“Steve!”

Steve shoved up and slapped the unlock control for the door. He couldn’t take it. The door hissed, then opened.

“Shit, you smell that?” someone said.

Steve shrank into the corner, holding his knife ready and trying to keep it steady. He heard running footsteps and shrank as much as he could, knife held out, and then Bucky stuck his head inside.

“ _Shit,_ ” he said immediately. “Hey, kiddo, it’s just me.”

Steve let out all of the air inside him and dropped the knife. Bucky caught him as he collapsed and righted him.

“Let’s get you home,” he said softly. “Got a nice nest all set up, you’re gonna be nice ‘n’ comfy, baby.”

Steve tried to push his face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky caught him, though, and stopped him.

“Wait,” he said in a low whisper.

Steve didn’t even realize it was a command until Bucky was draping him over his shoulder and walking him out. When he did, he decided he didn’t care.

“What the fuck,” New Guy #? declared.

“Rogers!” Rumlow shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Bucky marched Steve through the gathered STRIKE team members. Steve kept his eyes on the ground. He heard shouting and yelling behind him and tuned it out. Bucky took Steve to a minivan parked on the tarmac and a woman with curly black hair opened the side-door for them.

“Hi, Bucky’s sister,” the woman said, pointing to herself. “And chaperone, apparently.”

Steve inhaled sharply, but picked up nothing more than more Omega pheromones. He relaxed as Bucky helped him into the car.

“Geez, you stink,” Bucky’s sister announced, then slammed the door behind them.

Steve wrapped around Bucky and collapsed on him. Bucky pulled him in tight and kissed his hair, then nuzzled him. Steve, feeling delirious, started to purr and nuzzled Bucky back vaguely.

“Okay,” Bucky’s sister said, getting into the driver’s seat. “I’ll have you home in half an hour. Please don’t fuck in my car.”

“No,” Steve said, hugging Bucky tighter. “No, no, no –”

“Shh,” Bucky murmured, petting his hair now, “it’s okay, honey, that’s not gonna happen.”

Steve whined and hid his face. He still felt the panic and he wasn’t sure it would fade before the heat was even over.

Bucky’s sister didn’t say anything else. Steve actually forgot she was there and where they were. Bucky continued to pet him and, despite his panic, Steve fell asleep.

He woke up surrounded by warmth and softness. He was pressed against a firm chest and arms were wrapped around his middle. He smelled an Alpha, he smelled rut, but it didn’t immediately send him spiraling into fear. It was just Bucky. Bucky was safe.

“Hi, baby boy,” Bucky rumbled, his voice just behind Steve’s head. “Should get something t’a eat. You didn’t last much night.”

“Last night?” Steve questioned.

“When we got home,” Bucky explained. “‘M still wearin’ pants, baby, but I’m hard, ‘m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve said, yawning. “Like your dick.”

Bucky laughed softly. “As long as it doesn’t bother you,” he said. “C’mon, I got chicken soup.”

“Yum,” Steve mumbled. “Sleep.”

“Soup,” Bucky rumbled again, his voice low and deep and compelling.

Steve hummed and turned over, sitting up when Bucky pulled him up. It took him a minute to recognize that Bucky had commanded him again, and even longer to recognize that he still didn’t care. He felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _chapters 13-15 come out tomorrow, probably around the same times as these did. see y'all then!_


	13. I'll be your safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _okay so herein is talks about past trauma followed immediately by cuddles_

#  _13: I'll be your safety_

  


Bucky couldn’t worry about exposure or questions right then. He jumped out of Becca’s van and ran right up to the slim cargo plane that had just dropped its gangplank. There were already men walking off it, Alphas that smelled like a week in the field, and Bucky ran right past them.

“Hey!” somebody shouted. “Who’s that guy?”

Inside the plane was spacious and Bucky smelled nothing but Alphas. The cargo hold was full and another six or so Alphas were packing up their gear as Bucky ran in; all of them stopped and looked up at him.

“What are you doing here?” one of the men demanded.

Bucky ignored him, turning on the spot. “Steve?!” he just shouted in desperation.

“Who the fuck are you?” the same Alpha asked, striding up to him now.

“Uh,” Bucky started, completely blanking on what to say. “Cap’s neighbor?” he tried.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the Alpha repeated, sounding more and more irritated.

“Where is he?” Bucky just asked.

“Might’a jumped off the plane, far as I know,” the Alpha said exasperatedly. “Get outta here before you get arrested,” he added, shoving at Bucky’s shoulder, “this shit’s top secret.”

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, dodging him and heading further inside.

“C’mon!” someone shouted at him, but Bucky ignored him.

Then suddenly Bucky could smell something other than the half-dozen Alphas in the cargo hold. He recognized it immediately, the acrid scent of fear mixed in with sugary slick; panic, heat, and more panic. Bucky bolted in the direction of the smell even as the Alphas behind him started picking up on it, too.

Bucky found a small closet down another passage. There was a hatch that had slid open and the smell was so strong, Steve had to be inside it. Bucky grabbed onto the doorway and stuck his head inside.

“Shit,” he gasped.

Steve was pressed into the corner, his hair sticking up in sweaty and greasy clumps. His forehead shined with sweat, the neck of his uniform was unbuckled and his skin was flushed an angry red under it. His eyes were wide, he looked just as terrified as he smelled, and he was holding a combat knife out like he expected the denizens of Hell to come through the doorway.

Bucky moved into the closet, and already Steve was visibly relaxing. “Hey, kiddo,” Bucky said gently, “it’s just me.”

Steve dropped the knife and lunged for him. Bucky caught him and held him tightly, grabbing the back of his neck and squeezing. Steve let out a low, breathy moan and went limp, almost dead-weight in Bucky’s arms.

“Let’s get you home,” Bucky murmured, moving his hand from the back of Steve’s neck to help him stand upright. “Got a nice nest all set up,” he added, smiling at Steve, “you’re gonna be nice ‘n’ comfy, baby.”

Bucky could hear people walking down the passage. Steve already smelled like heat and there was nothing Bucky could do about that. He pushed him up, but Steve whined and tried to grab onto him again, ducking his face like he wanted to press into Bucky's neck. Bucky caught him, then steeled his voice and resolve, holding Steve back.

“Wait,” Bucky commanded softly.

Steve, eyes still hazy, nodded. Bucky took Steve’s arm and dragged it over his shoulders, then walked Steve out of the closet. The SHIELD agents Bucky had run past were crowding up the other end of the passage now.

“Get out of the way,” Bucky asked calmly.

“What the fuck?” one of the Alphas said.

“Rogers!” the Alpha that had shoved Bucky just a minute ago shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve whined and ducked his head. Bucky pulled him closer, then shoved the Alpha out of his way and pushed through the crowd. Most of them got out of the way. Bucky took Steve off the plane as fast as he could and headed back for the van.

Becca was waiting on the outside, she opened the door for them and briefly introduced herself to Steve, though Bucky doubted he really noticed. He saw Steve lift his head and his nostrils flared, but Becca’s Omega scent didn’t seem to bother him. Bucky loaded Steve into the middle of the van, thanking his lucky stars that Becca’s car had benches and not individual seats. Bucky put a seat belt on Steve while Becca got in the driver’s seat.

“Straight home,” Becca declared. “And then to get my car washed.”

“Hey, shuddup,” Bucky countered.

“You’re hardwired to like that smell,” Becca said, starting the car and looking in the rearview mirror at them.

Bucky hugged Steve to him and nuzzled his hair. “He’s too scared right now, sis,” he pointed out.

Becca shrugged. Bucky focused his attention on Steve again and kissed his hair gently.

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Steve nodded, leaning into Bucky’s neck. The fear scent was dying off, telling Bucky that he did feel safe now.

Becca helped Bucky get Steve inside, then waved and left them. Bucky took Steve upstairs; Steve was dragging his feet and he kept yawning, blinking, and Bucky bet he was exhausted. He’d rearranged the living room to make a big nest, but first, he needed to give Steve a bath.

“Through here, honey,” Bucky said, “Daddy’s gonna get you clean, that sound good?”

Steve just nodded vaguely, yawning once more. 

“I bet those nasty clothes don’t feel good, do they?” Bucky added, positioning Steve near the dining table. “Let Daddy help you out’a them, okay?”

“Scratchy,” Steve grumbled. “Hurts.”

“Yeah, I bet it does, honey,” Bucky answered sympathetically. “C’mere, baby, Daddy’ll help you out.”

Steve stuck his hands out and Bucky started with his gloves. There were almost half a dozen scent-block patches stuck to his wrists under the gloves, and there were even more stuck under his sleeves. Bucky peeled them away carefully, throwing them aside. Bucky tossed Steve’s gloves onto the table, then pulled him in and started undoing the many buckles and zippers. 

“How do you get outta this thing?” Bucky grumbled.

“Um,” Steve said, looking down at himself, “I don’t remember.”

Bucky laughed a little. He turned Steve and kept working on the zippers and buckles. He got to the point that the top part of the uniform was disconnected from the pants and Bucky was able to pull the tails out, walking around again, he pulled it off Steve’s arms. 

“Aw, baby boy,” Bucky clucked sympathetically as he saw Steve’s skin after the kevlar and polyester. “You poor thing, this thing’s scratched you up bad, hasn’t it?”

“I have stuff to wear under, but it’s too hot,” Steve mumbled.

“Like this thing?” Bucky asked, plucking at the tank top Steve was wearing.

“Compression stuff,” Steve answered, plucking at it as well. “I’m real icky sweaty.”

“Well, I’m gonna clean you up, baby,” Bucky promised. “Daddy’s not worried ‘bout a lil’ bit of sweat.”

“‘S tight,” Steve added, his voice dropping into a whine. “My – my chest hurts, my stomach hurts, I can’t breathe –”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, already tugging the hem of the tank from Steve’s pants. “Here, honey, we’ll get it off, arms up.”

Steve lifted his arms, wincing already. Bucky lifted the compression material quickly, bunching it and trying not to let it irritate Steve’s skin more than it already did. He was red all over and as Bucky got the tight material over his chest, he saw that Steve’s tits were a little swollen and his nipples looked horribly chafed; the lining of the shirt had actually left creases in Steve's skin across his chest, an angry grid layering right over his abused nipples. 

“Ah, honey,” Bucky murmured, “they don’t give you the right clothes, do they? This shirt’s not for an Omega.”

“Can’t –” Steve started, his arms shaking as he held them over his head, “can’t ask for – for Omega clothes.”

“I get it,” Bucky said gently, “watch your head now, baby.”

Steve lifted his chin and Bucky tried to get the shirt over his head without letting it hit his throat. Steve tucked his arms close to his head and Bucky held the material so it wouldn’t touch the front of his throat, but it hit the back of his neck and Steve hissed in pain.

“I’m sorry, babydoll,” Bucky said quickly, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. “We’ll get you in the bath in just a bit, sweet boy, get’chu feelin’ better.”

Steve dropped his arms and grabbed his chest, pushing his pecs up and grimacing.

“They hurt real bad?” Bucky asked, moving in close and taking Steve’s waist.

“Sore,” Steve said. “Had to wear that thing for days.”

“The same one?” Bucky questioned. “Shit, baby, you gotta feel real gross.”

“Nasty,” Steve grumbled. “Hated it.”

“Let’s get the rest of it off, sweetie,” Bucky said, grabbing the front of Steve’s pants.

Steve leaned back, still holding up his tits, as Bucky got his pants undone. Bucky had to toss his tac belt away, but got to the final layer of fastenings and shoved it down Steve’s hips. Steve hissed in pain again, but Bucky got the pants to his ankles quickly, and, kneeling, hastily unlaced his boots and got them and his pants off.

“Those shorts are tight, too, I bet,” Bucky said, pushing up to get Steve’s boxers. “You’re wearing a cup, right?”

Steve nodded. Bucky peeled his boxers back, finding the codpiece, and held it in place until it was free so he could put it down. Then he pulled Steve’s shorts down, more gently, and held a hand up to help Steve balance so he could step out of them.

“There you go,” Bucky said, pushing himself up again. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, baby.”

Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist, still supporting his chest, and he put the other around Bucky, leaning on him. Bucky walked him to the bathroom, opening the door for him, and took Steve’s shoulders to guide him to stand in front of the counter.

“You stay there and I’ll get it running,” Bucky said. “You wanna have a bath or a shower, honey?”

“Shower,” Steve said. “And –”

He stopped, biting his lip. Bucky moved back in and set his hands on Steve’s waist.

“What?” he prompted. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you.”

Steve leaned in close, his eyes lidded and his gaze near Bucky’s throat. Bucky reached up to cup his neck, holding up his head, and Steve leaned into his touch, his eyes closing.

“What do you need?” Bucky asked.

Steve blinked, giving Bucky a blank look for a moment, then he closed the gap between them and just rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“‘M tired, Daddy,” he said, his voice rough. “Can you wash me? Please? I don’t wanna do it.”

“Aw, a’course, baby,” Bucky told him, “I’d be happy to wash my little boy, you kiddin’?”

Steve laughed a little and nuzzled his neck. Bucky cupped the back of his neck and squeezed, making Steve relax. 

“Lemme get undressed, then,” Bucky said. “You hold right there, little boy.”

Steve let go of him and leaned back on the counter. Bucky patted his cheek, then walked towards the shower and started stripping at the same time. He pulled the curtain and got the shower running to warm up, then got out of the rest of his clothes and kicked them out of the way.

Steve let out a little whine behind him. Bucky turned, then held out his hand and Steve pushed off the counter to join him. He wrapped around him and Bucky tucked him into his side, then while Steve nuzzled at his shoulder, he checked the temperature of the water and leaned in to add some cold.

“You don’t get real horny, huh, doll?” Bucky commented.

“Not yet,” Steve mumbled. “I might later. I don’ know. Haven’t been in heat ‘round anybody I felt safe with before.”

Bucky shook his hand off, then shuffled a little to face Steve. He cupped Steve’s face and pressed a slow kiss to his lips. Steve was smiling when he pulled back and Bucky touched their foreheads together.

“‘M real nasty,” Steve complained softly, finishing in a slightly weak laugh.

“Don’t care,” Bucky said. “I’m real glad you feel safe with me, sweetheart. I’m happy I can give this to you.”

Steve flushed and ducked his head, pressing into Bucky’s neck again. Bucky lifted his chin and let him, setting a hand on the back of Steve’s head to hold him. The water pressure changed behind them, the cold adding in now, and Bucky let Steve have a moment before he let go and turned to check the temperature again.

After tweaking the water again, Bucky climbed into the shower, then helped Steve in. Steve was shaking still and Bucky was worried that he might slip, so he held onto him at all times. Steve let out a deep breath as the water hit him and he threw his head back in exaltation almost. The water ran over his forehead and hair, streams trickling down the length of his nose and his strong jawline. His throat was stretched, completely bare, and Bucky could see the flush of blood close to the skin in his scent gland. 

Bucky was feeling the pump of adrenaline that meant he was beginning to rut. Steve’s skin retained the odor of several days without washing, but this close, in such a small space, the smell of his heat was almost overpowering. He also smelled like a jumble of disjointed people, the other SHIELD agents that had been on the mission with him, and the hot water soaking through his hair started to release foreign Alpha pheromones. Which, Bucky’s instinct told him, could not be allowed to remain.

Bucky wrapped around Steve and pressed his face into his neck. Steve let out a quiet sigh and pressed into him, arching his back as Bucky dug his hands into his hips. Bucky kissed his pulse, then nuzzled down his neck to his scent gland. He licked at it impulsively and Steve let out a broken, startled moan.

“Mine,” Bucky murmured, still impulsive. “You’re all mine.”

“Yeah,” Steve exhaled. “Just you. Just yours.”

Bucky pressed his nose against Steve’s scent gland and inhaled deeply. He nuzzled him there again, then switched sides of his neck and rubbed his cheeks and nose into him. He started moving his hands, going up and down Steve’s sides, around his back, but avoiding his ass. Steve’s cock was pressing into his stomach, and Bucky’s was rubbing against Steve’s thigh. As Bucky started petting all over him, scent-marking him, Steve rolled his hips into Bucky’s and made Bucky’s dick drag against his skin. 

“We’re not having sex right now,” Bucky murmured into Steve’s neck. “Daddy just needs to touch you, sweet boy. You don’t smell like me, that’s gotta change.”  


“Thank you, Daddy,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky kissed his neck. “You’re welcome, little boy. You like the hot water? You feel better?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve said. “‘M sleepy, Daddy.”

“We’ll be quick,” Bucky promised. “Step forward, and hold onto me.”

Bucky pulled Steve away from the spray of water, then, his hands gentle, he grabbed his shampoo and poured it into his palm. He soaped up Steve’s hair and as he scrubbed at his scalp, Steve began a soft purr, swaying to meet Bucky’s touch and keeping his arms loosely around Bucky’s waist. He stepped back when Bucky told him to, tipped his head back, and let Bucky rinse his hair. Steve shut his eyes at some point while Bucky was washing his hair and didn’t open them again the whole time Bucky scrubbed him down.

Slowly, the smell of the week-long mission and the rest of his team faded. The sharp scent of fear and upset were long gone. Steve smelled like gingerbread cookies, warm sugar, and spiced rum. And he was asleep on his feet.

After Bucky shut off the shower, he had to command Steve again to get him out of the tub. Steve was obedient and he followed each of Bucky’s commands, but anything else, he didn’t seem to register or even hear. Bucky dried him off and took him out of the bathroom, into his room, and there, he helped Steve into a light cotton shift; it was thin and would be soft to the skin, it hung just past his ass and had thin straps that let his throat and collarbones be exposed. Bucky had bought it just that afternoon, knowing that anything more would be too hot and too restrictive to an Omega in heat. He figured Steve wouldn’t want to wear underwear, but he had a few pairs of light cotton panties on hand just in case. Bucky put on boxers, but nothing else so Steve could have skin contact.

Bucky put Steve’s collar on. Steve let out a sigh as Bucky wrapped it around his throat and he smiled lightly, the sweet, happy touch to his scent getting stronger. Bucky put the matching cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and kept the rest of the leather gear that matched on hand in case Steve needed more restraints than that. He made Steve drink some water, a cup and a half to be cautious, and eat a little bit of bread and a cup of yogurt to fill his stomach. Steve still moved like he was asleep already.

The nest Bucky had built was spacious; he’d dragged his mattress off the bed, like he’d seen Steve do the first he’d gone into heat, barely a few months ago. He’d pulled all the pillows out and built up walls, forming a cradle, he’d even gone down to Steve’s apartment and gotten things from there. There were a few thin sheets, a few thicker blankets, some fuzzy things just for the texture. Bucky just hoped it would be enough.

“Here, sweet boy,” Bucky told Steve, “time for bed.”

Steve dropped into the nest happily. He held out his hands and whined and Bucky got in with him. When he lay down, Steve immediately tucked into his side and pillowed his head on Bucky’s chest. Bucky pulled a sheet over them, but nothing else as Steve’s fever felt pretty high still, then he just started petting through Steve’s hair.

“Go to sleep, little one,” Bucky murmured to him. “Daddy’s gonna keep you safe.”

Steve was breathing slow and deep within minutes.

Bucky was normally getting up around this time, but he hadn't slept since getting Steve’s initial text. He was pretty exhausted as well, and finally satisfied that his Omega was safe, happy, and comfortable, Bucky was able to fall asleep with Steve.

Bucky woke up again a while later, restless from rut and ill-used to sleeping at this time of night. Steve was still passed out, he was breathing steadily, slowly, and he was drooling a little onto Bucky's chest. Bucky gently wiped Steve's mouth and Steve smacked his lips in his sleep, then pressed closer. Bucky wrapped his arms around him, kissed his hair, and gently, cautiously, flexed his wrist to press his scent gland into Steve's skin. Bucky massaged his back for a while, then switched to using his palms and resumed just petting him. Steve slept on. 

Bucky checked the time on the cable box; half past 8. He yawned and rubbed his face, then snuggled closer to Steve and nuzzled his face into his hair. Steve let out a soft murmur in his sleep, but otherwise remained still. Bucky had vague thoughts about getting food, or brewing coffee, despite knowing objectively that caffeine and rut didn't meld well together. Those vague thoughts wandered off from his focus as Bucky started inhaling Steve's heat-scent. He, instead, began vaguely thinking how he would go about satisfying Steve's heat without pushing the boundaries of what Steve was comfortable with. He had dildos, at least one was a knotting toy. If Steve needed to feel like he was filled with a cock but couldn't actually take Bucky's, he could have the toy. If he was just distressed by his body's need, Bucky could give him a comparatively smaller plug. Or Steve could just want Bucky to fuck him. Bucky had to admit he _wanted_ the last option to be true, but his wants weren't the priority here.

Bucky started petting Steve's hair. He'd get up in a bit, heat up something to eat and use the bathroom. He ought to take out the knotting toy and clean it, so he could have it on hand. And he should dig out some Advil for Steve to take in case he was in any pain. Bucky wasn't sure if Advil would work, though. His phone was in reach, so he grabbed it and sent Natasha a text about it, since she would have a better answer to that question. She didn't reply right away, so Bucky pressed his home button and stared blankly at the screen for a while, then swiped left and opened his games folder. He opened Solitaire and started a new game of Freecell.

Bucky's bladder forced him to get up about a half-hour later. Steve rolled onto his back when Bucky eased his arm from under him, then, adorably, he stuck a thumb in his mouth and curled into a tighter position. Bucky covered him with the sheet, then rubbed his wrists into the pillows and blankets around him to satisfy his own cravings, before getting to his feet and heading for the bathroom. 

When he went to pee, he had a lazy half-erection. Bucky ignored it, pissed, and washed his hands after flushing. To be cautious, he tugged out a tub of Lysol wipes from under the sink and wiped everything in the bathroom down. Leaving the bathroom, Bucky crawled back into the nest and kissed the back of Steve's neck, then scent-marked the pillows again before getting up. He went into the kitchen and, cautious again, he got out the bleach and a sponge and cleaned the counters, stove, and sink. 

When he'd sanitized everything, Bucky took soup from the fridge and heated it up. He'd stocked up on so much soup and meat from the deli, Granny Spitzer gave him a knowing look when he checked out and told him to call if he ran out of food, offering to send her granddaughter by to drop off refills. Bucky had blushed harder than he'd ever done in his life and rushed out, feeling like _his_ own grandmother knew he was taking care of an Omega in season. He had, perhaps, bought more food than necessary, but he hadn't been sure how Steve's metabolism would act in heat since it eased already accelerated. Still, it had been embarrassing. 

Bucky went back to the living room to eat, sitting just outside the nest to watch Steve. He was still sleeping soundly, and his hear-scent was still a little weak, like his body was still getting started. Bucky had to wonder how long Steve had been in pre-heat, and if wherever he'd been had a space he could fortify to make himself feel safe while waiting for extraction. If he hadn't, his pre-heat would probably last longer than normal while his body caught up on rest; Bucky had seen cases like right now in the past. Once, a patient had been caught unexpectedly by pre-heat on an 18-hour flight, on the first hour of the flight. She'd still been in the beginning stages when the plane landed in New York and she was brought to the hospital, she'd slept almost 16 hours afterwards. Bucky would ask how long Steve had been feverish and itchy when he woke up next, whenever that was.

After finishing his soup, Bucky put away his dishes and got back in the nest, wrapping around Steve again. Steve mumbled in his sleep and pressed back into Bucky's arms, but still didn't wake up. 

Bucky got up every so often, to clean something or to walk around and scent-mark the doors and windows, or just to stretch his legs. Around midnight, he hit a lull in energy and he was starting to get a caffeine headache, so he took some Tylenol and drank a bunch of water. He lay down with Steve again, spooning him snuggly, and drifted off.

Movement woke him up. Bucky blinked, yawning, and saw Steve rubbing at his eyes. Bucky pulled him in and nuzzled his hair, and Steve hummed softly.

“Hi, baby boy,” Bucky said into Steve's hair. “Should get something t’a eat," he continued, nuzzling him again. "You didn’t last much night.”

“Last night?” Steve repeated in a confused mumbled.

“When we got home,” Bucky said. 

Steve hummed again and pressed into Bucky. He smelled sweeter now, like his heat was finally starting in earnest, and as Steve leaned into Bucky's front, his ass fit neatly against Bucky's crotch. His dick gave a throb of sensation to remind Bucky about its existence. 

“‘M still wearin’ pants, baby, but I’m hard," Bucky mumbled, lips still pressed into Steve's hair, "‘m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve answered; he yawned halfway through and paused to inhale and smack his lips. “Like your dick," he added softly, almost absent.

Bucky let out a little laugh and nuzzled Steve's hair. “As long as it doesn’t bother you,” he told him. “C’mon," he added, pushing up onto his elbow. "I got chicken soup.”

“Yum,” Steve answered absently again. He didn't move, though. “Sleep," he said softly.

“Soup,” Bucky told Steve in a gentle command, nuzzling his cheek now.

Steve yawned and sat up. Bucky helped him get up, then they stumbled out of the nest. Steve was uncoordinated and kept yawning. Bucky had to support him; little that he minded. Bucky put Steve in a chair, then opened the fridge and took out a foil package of pastrami. 

"I'm wet," Steve declared abruptly. 

Bucky glanced up at him on his way across the kitchen again. "I know," he chuckled, "I can smell it."

Steve turned red and dropped his face into his arms, leaning on the table. Bucky chuckled again, dumped the pastrami into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave. He walked around Steve and leaned over him: planting his hands flat on the table, Bucky nuzzled and kissed the back of his neck. Steve whimpered a little. 

"How do you feel?" Bucky asked him softly.

"Wet," Steve mumbled. 

"Is that a good or bad thing, honey?" Bucky prompted. 

Steve shrugged. Bucky pressed another kiss to the back of his neck, then a third to his shoulder. 

"If it's hurting," Bucky murmured, "I have a knotting toy you can use, or a plug if you don't want that much."

Steve shook his head, then stretched out his arms and turned his head, pressing his cheek into the table. Bucky brushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed his cheek. 

"Don't want a toy," Steve said eventually. 

"You don't have to use one," Bucky said quickly, "I just want you to know your options."

"Uh-uh," Steve mumbled. "Want real."

Bucky rested his cheek on the back of Steve's cheek. "You can have my knot if you're sure, sweetie," he said. "If that's what you really want, it's okay."

"Want it," Steve said, yawning again. "Later. 'M sleepy."

"I bet you are," Bucky said in a sweet voice. "How long were you feeling the pre-heat, baby?"

Steve shrugged. "Don't remember how long we were in the safe house. Most of the time."

Bucky lifted his head. "It was five or six _days,_ baby. You were in pre-heat the whole time?"

Steve nodded, yawning again.

"Then you were nesting when you left last," Bucky said, doing the math and getting more and more daunted. "You were close to heat when you told me you were going on the no-contact mission."

"Uh-huh," Steve mumbled. 

"Baby, why didn't you say anything?" Bucky asked, moving around Steve's chair and dropping into a crouch next to him. "You could'a said no to the mission and just come home."

Steve, still slumped over the table, opened his eyes and blinked. He looked confused.

"I had the mission?" he said questioningly.

"You can say no to missions," Bucky insisted.

Steve just frowned at him. "No, I can't."

"Of course you can!" Bucky said. "Honey –"

"They needed me," Steve said, sitting up now. "I had to go. I couldn't say no when they needed me."

Bucky just gaped at him for a second while he tried to put together his thoughts in a way that wouldn't come out as harsh or even exasperated. Steve must've seen something in his face, though, because he let out a whine and slid off his chair, opening his arms. Bucky let out a soft, sympathetic noise and scooped him up quickly, cupping the back of his head while Steve pressed into his neck.

"You knew you were close to heat at the start of that mission," Bucky repeated carefully. 

"Yeah," Steve mumbled. 

"You didn't tell me," Bucky added. "Was that because you didn't think to or because you didn't know how I would react?"

Steve was quiet for a second. Across the room, the microwave beeped. Bucky ignored it. 

"You gotta answer me, little boy," Bucky said, trying to sound firm and gentle at the same time.

Steve whined. Bucky quickly squeezed the back of his neck and kissed his hair.

"I'm not upset with you, I promise," he said. "But if you knew you were close to heat and you didn't tell me, you went on that mission knowing you might start heat before you got home, that's not okay, sweetheart."

"'M sorry, Daddy," Steve mumbled. 

"You gotta say it," Bucky told him.

Steve sniffed and clung onto him. He nuzzled Bucky's neck and Bucky kissed him again.

"I'm not angry at you," he repeated. "Tell me the truth, baby."

"I did," Steve said quietly. "I knew I was gonna be in heat soon and I didn't tell you."

"Why'd you go on that mission?" Bucky asked him. "You just put yourself at risk, honey, you put yourself in a scary situation where Daddy couldn't help you at all. Why did you do that?"

Steve whined again. He hugged Bucky tightly and nuzzled him, his body starting to shake. Bucky held him tightly and hushed him gently, then began to rock him side to side.

"I'm not angry," he said a third time. "I am disappointed, baby. You put my little boy in an uncomfy situation and you made him suffer. Daddy never wants you to be in a place like that by yourself where you're scared and nobody can help you."

"I'm sorry!" Steve whined.

"I know," Bucky answered him, "I know you are, baby. Why didn't you tell Daddy you needed to come home? Why did you go even though you knew your heat was coming?"

"I – I don't know," Steve mumbled. 

"Did you think Daddy wouldn't take care of you?" Bucky prompted. 

"No!" Steve said quickly. "I trust you, I know you'll help me."

"So why didn't you ask for help?" Bucky pressed again.

Steve sniffled. He was trembling, tucked under Bucky's chin. Bucky started to pet his hair, keeping his movements slow. The microwave beeped again but neither of them moved.

"Am I in trouble?" Steve whispered. 

Bucky thought about it, working quickly. On the one hand, he hated the idea of giving Steve any more misery; he had suffered enough. On the other, Steve shouldn't have taken the mission in the first place, he should've just come home even if it wasn't for Bucky to take care of him. He never should have gone on that mission. 

"You're not a bad boy, sweetheart," Bucky started carefully, "but you put yourself in a bad situation when you didn't need to. You didn't need to go on that mission."

"I had to," Steve argued, however. "I can't just not go where people need me. There were people at risk."

"So it's okay that you put yourself at risk?" Bucky countered.

Steve hesitated, hiccuping. Bucky kissed his hair again.

"That team you got is pretty tough," he said. "Don't you think they could have handled it without you?"

Steve sniffed and, complicity, didn't answer. 

"You should have said no," Bucky told him. "You should've come home, to let your Daddy take care of you or even just to take care of yourself. Baby, you shouldn't've made yourself suffer all those days having to hide from your team, that wasn't necessary, honey."

"But…" Steve mumbled. 

"You wanted to suffer that pre-heat with all those Alphas around you?" Bucky asked. "You wanted to make yourself go through that?"

"No," Steve whined.

"Then you shouldn't've done it," Bucky said. "When you hurt yourself like that, baby boy, you tell yourself that you're not worth it to feel good or safe, and Daddy doesn't want you thinking it's okay to just suffer by yourself needlessly. So, yeah, baby, I'm disappointed."

Steve sucked in a trembling breath and clung hard to Bucky. "I–I'm sorry," he stuttered.

"Daddy knows you are," Bucky told him, cupping the back of his neck and squeezing hard. "Daddy can punish you, do you need to be punished, little boy?"

Steve nodded quickly. Bucky kissed his hair and nuzzled him gently.

"I'm sorry you had to suffer, too," Bucky said softly. "Daddy wants you to eat a little bit and then you can have your punishment, do you think you can do that, baby?"

“Yessir," Steve mumbled quickly. 

Bucky patted Steve's shoulder. "Stand up, doll."

Steve pulled away from him, looking reluctant and upset. Bucky stood up and took Steve's hands hastily, pulling him back into his chest and Steve relaxed again immediately as he put his head on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky shuffled them a little awkwardly, but got to the microwave and took out the bowl of pastrami. He leaned against the counter then, pulled Steve into standing in front of him, and tore off a strip of meat.

"Open up, baby," Bucky said.

Steve opened his mouth even as he blushed and shyly averted his eyes. Bucky let him, but kept a hand on his cheek as he fed Steve the meat. After a nice chunk of it was gone, Bucky started taking some for himself, alternating feeding Steve and himself until it was gone. 

Steve's eyes were droopy again when the bowl was empty. Bucky just leaned sideways to put the bowl by the sink, then put his hands on Steve's shoulders and pushed him gently back, turning him again. Steve let himself be moved and Bucky guided him back into the living room to the nest.

"I'm gonna go get the paddle, honey," Bucky said softly. "I want you to kneel down and show your bottom for your punishment."

Steve nodded and started to kneel. Bucky touched the back of his neck briefly, then left to get the wooden paddle from his closet. He moved as quickly as he could, found the paddle on the shelves and cleaned it off as he walked out again, and in the living room, Steve was leaning over with his ass in the air, his shift pulled back over his waist, his arms tucked under him. Bucky moved to his side and sat down next to him, touching his hair right away.

"I need you to understand what you're being punished for," he started. "Can you explain to Daddy in your words why?"

Steve turned his head to rest his cheek on the pillow under him and nodded. Bucky petted through his hair while Steve gathered his thoughts. 

"I let myself start pre-heat around Alphas I didn't trust," Steve mumbled eventually. "And I was scared and I didn't ask Daddy for help."

"What else?" Bucky prompted. 

Steve bit his lip, thinking. "I made myself scared when I didn't have to."

"Exactly," Bucky said. "And the next time something like this happens, next time you're in a place physically or mentally where you know you should go home but SHIELD wants you to keep working, what are you gonna do?"

Steve blinked at him. "I don' know," he mumbled.

Bucky let out his breath, but nodded. "Okay," he said. "You don't gotta know everything right away, baby. Daddy's still proud of you and he's still glad you're here and you're okay. I'm gonna spank you now and when I'm done, it'll all be over, you'll be forgiven and you'll be Daddy's good boy again. You understand?"

"Yessir," Steve answered quietly. 

Bucky let his hand come to rest in Steve's hair, but pushed up and brought the broad side of the paddle to Steve's smooth skin, no longer irritated by rough friction. He stroked his skin with it, rubbing in slow circles, then began a series of light, gentle taps to warm up Steve's bottom. Steve's breathing was deep and even and Bucky glanced at his face every few seconds as his ass got pink, but he was calm and relaxed. When Bucky was satisfied with the warm-up, he brought the paddle back and gave Steve one more look.

"You get fifteen," Bucky decided on the spot. "Ready?"

Steve just nodded. Bucky looked back and brought the paddle down hard.

Steve only whined when the wood cracked across his ass. Bucky let the paddle touch him again, let the heat be drawn from his skin into the wood, then after a moment, brought it back and hit him again. Steve whimpered and rocked forward, pushing his toes into the mattress and tensing his thighs. Bucky put the paddle down to smooth his hand across Steve’s ass, hushing him gently. 

“Tell me your color, baby boy,” Bucky asked.

“Green,” Steve mumbled.

“Good,” Bucky said, lifting the paddle again. “Good boy.”

He hit Steve again. Steve whimpered and rocked forward, but stayed still. Bucky gave him a moment, then spanked him again. He gave Steve a few seconds between each strike, he asked Steve his color whenever he made any noise louder than a sigh.

“Fifteen,” Bucky concluded. “Relax, sweetheart, it’s done, you’re a good boy.”

Steve let his core collapse with a stuttering gasp. He stretched his arms above his head, inhaled again, then let it out, his breath shuddering.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Bucky said in a soft voice.

Steve turned his head to look at him. He smiled slowly, flexed his fingers and settled his knees. Bucky smiled back at him and dropped onto his elbow beside Steve, reaching out to pet his hair.

“You feel good, baby boy?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded. Bucky leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“I’m glad,” he murmured.

Steve grinned now, then shifted his knees again, spreading them apart wider. Bucky glanced down his body, then back at his face and raised his eyebrows. Steve’s smile turned shyer and he averted his gaze, then glanced back up, blushing a soft pink.

Bucky smelled slick. Steve’s ass was spread open by the positioning of his knees, his hole would be exposed to the air. The slick he was producing was right there in the open, perfuming the air.

“You feelin’ real good, little boy?” Bucky asked, brushing a hand through Steve’s hair.

Steve hummed softly, nodding and smiling.

“You want Daddy to touch you?” Bucky continued. “You want Daddy to touch your bottom?”

Steve bit his lip, nodded again, and gave his hips a little wiggle. Bucky pushed up and touched his ass, smoothed his hand over his asscheek just the way he’d been doing to his hair.

“Daddy,” Steve whined.

“I’m touching you,” Bucky pointed out. “You wanted me to touch you, I’m touching you.”

Steve whined and pushed his ass out again, shifting his knees restlessly.

“You want more, you gotta use your words,” Bucky told him. “You gotta tell me what you want, little boy, I don’t know what’s in your head.”

Steve whined again. He lifted his head and pressed his forehead into the mattress, then shifted to look at Bucky again and caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“Use your words,” Bucky told him.

“I’m horny,” Steve mumbled. “I need – I need – Daddy –”

Bucky, smiling at him gently, moved his hand to slip a finger between Steve’s asscheeks and pressed it down until he found his wet hole. Steve sucked in a gasping breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s what you need, baby?” Bucky murmured. “Does that feel good?”

Steve nodded slowly. Bucky sat up more and rubbed two fingers against Steve’s hole, pressing more firmly with each passing circle. Steve whimpered, arching his back. 

“Tell me if it doesn’t feel okay,” Bucky said. “At any point, you don’t feel good, speak up, tell me and I’ll stop. Promise?”

Steve nodded, faster this time. Bucky leaned down and kissed the back of his head, lingering for a moment. Steve let out an exhale, just euphoric. Bucky circled Steve’s rim one more time, then, feeling it give, he slipped a finger into him. Steve gasped this time, moaning, and Bucky still massaged at his rim with his middle finger while he gyrated his index inside Steve.

“Is it still good, baby?” Bucky prompted. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Steve just whimpered, a soft _Uh-huh,_ and Bucky bent to kiss the back of his neck. He slipped the second finger inside Steve, his body opening so easily, and Steve’s breath shuddered as Bucky let a third finger touch his rim. Bucky kissed Steve again, then nuzzled him as he whined and gasped.

In just a few moments, Bucky was able to fit all three inside him. Steve’s hole was incredibly wet and the heat-scent was intoxicatingly thick. Bucky felt almost like he was buzzed, like he was three beers in and on top of the world, but there was no alcohol to throw off his coordination. It was just Steve, the blush down his cheeks to his chest, the hitch of his breath, the wet sound of Bucky’s fingers inside him.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmured. “You’re such a good boy, babydoll.”

“D–Daddy,” Steve rumbled, “need – need to – Daddy –?”

“You need more?” Bucky tried to finish for him.

Steve just whined, pushing his ass back out. His cock was hanging between his legs, red and hard, and Bucky finally allowed himself to really look at it. Even hard and dripping at the tip, Bucky would’ve put it at about two inches.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Bucky murmured, “such a pretty little boy.”

“Daddy, need t’a come!” Steve whined out. “Please, please, I need it!”

“You can come,” Bucky said, understanding immediately. “Come for Daddy, sweet boy, it’s alright.”

Steve let out a harsh gasp. His eyebrows drew together, his mouth stretched open into a beautiful _O,_ and his cute little cock spurted out clear cum. Bucky grabbed onto Steve’s cock at the last second, milked it for his orgasm, and Steve moaned pitchily, thrusting his ass out for Bucky’s touch.

“Good boy,” Bucky said, kissing along Steve’s shoulder, “so proud of my good little boy.”

Steve whined. Bucky slid his fingers back, then started to pull them out.

“No!” Steve gasped, going rigid and pressing his ass out again. Bucky was already plunging his fingers back in, but Steve still added in a contrite whine, “I’ll be good, Daddy, don’t stop, please!”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said gently, stroking a hand down Steve’s back as he twisted his fingers in his hole. “I’m not leaving you, honey, still right here. You feel it?”

Steve, his whimpers hitching in his throat, nodded. There were tears on his face. 

“Daddy’s right here,” Bucky murmured, touching Steve’s face. “I’m right here. Relax, sweetheart, relax.”

Steve’s tense body went loose almost one muscle at a time. Slowly, he went limp again, his core dropping for his spine to arch, pressing his ass out again. Bucky slipped his pinky into Steve’s hole, as well, and Steve let out a needy sigh.

“I’m here,” Bucky murmured again. “Tell me what you need, little boy.”

“Knot,” Steve whispered almost absently. “Knot, Daddy.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked him. “You can have the toy one, it won’t hurt you and Daddy won’t be mad if you want that one instead.”

Steve shook his head. “Daddy,” he just mumbled.

Bucky smoothed Steve’s hair down and kissed his shoulder. “Okay,” he said softly. “Daddy’s got to get ready, gotta take my fingers out for a moment, can you lie there and wait?”

Steve nodded. Bucky kissed him again, then took his fingers back and pushed up. Steve still whined and Bucky tried his best to be quick. The condoms were stashed just outside the nest, so Bucky just had to grab one from the box, rip it off the strip, and tear open the foil. His cock was already straining at his boxers. Bucky came back to kneel behind Steve, rolled the condom onto himself and made sure it was snug over his knot, then touched his tip to Steve’s hole gently.

“Tell me your color, baby,” Bucky said, reaching up to pet Steve’s flank now.

“Green,” Steve answered.

“Good boy,” Bucky told him, gripping the base of his knot to hold it steady. “I’m gonna push in now, baby, if at any point it hurts, I want you to tell me, okay?”

Steve nodded. Bucky glanced down, his heart pounding, and fixed his gaze on Steve’s pink hole. His cock through the slightly beige condom looked a little bit orange, but whitewashing in the condom industry wasn’t exactly on his mind then. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hip, holding him still, and pressed the head of his cock in. Steve’s body opened easily for him; Bucky let out a low groan, his eyes shutting for a moment as he let the feel of the tight heat around him, sucking him in it felt like, overwhelm him.

Steve let out a whimper. It wasn’t the same breathless, needy sound Bucky had been hearing and he stopped, halfway in.

“Baby,” Bucky said carefully, “are you hurting?”

Steve shook his head quickly, but his heat-scent was taking on a sour note. Bucky pulled out and Steve let out a broken gasp, grabbing onto the sheets. Bucky dropped down beside Steve, grabbing him into a hug and pulling him in tight, and Steve sobbed abruptly.

“It’s okay,” Bucky murmured, “it’s just me, baby, it’s just Daddy, you’re safe here. It’s alright, breathe slowly for me, sweet boy.”

Steve’s breath hitched. He quieted for a moment, swallowed, and let his breath exhale slowly. Bucky started petting the back of his neck.

“Daddy will never hurt you,” he said in a soft, determined voice. “Never, honey.”

Steve grabbed onto his shoulders. He opened his eyes and looked around, something wild in them, and Bucky's heart broke a little for him.

"It's just us, baby," he murmured. "You're safe here, nobody's gonna hurt you."

Steve blinked. His eyes were still hazy, still a little wild, but he inhaled sharply and let his head drop onto Bucky's shoulder. His breathing shuddered, then he relaxed.

"I don't like being on my knees for sex," Steve mumbled. "'M sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Bucky said, "it's not your fault, not at all. Daddy's sorry you got scared, I'm sorry that whatever happened to make you scared happened to you."

"Punishment," Steve said softly. "'S how Mister Ronan punished me."

"On your knees?" Bucky questioned, horror dawning. "I – I'm so sorry, baby, I shouldn't've put you on your knees –"

"Nuh-uh, not spanking," Steve cut him off. "It was, um, a – a blindfold, a gag, and then Mister Ronan would use me. Or it'd be someone else. I couldn't see, so I didn't know who it was, don't like that, 's all."

"Oh," Bucky said quietly. "Sweetheart…"

"It was only when I was really bad," Steve added in a hasty tone. "I always deserved it, Mister Ronan never tied me up like that unless I deserved it."

"No, baby," Bucky answered just as quickly, "baby, no, no, that's not – Those weren't punishments and you definitely didn't _deserve_ it, Steve, nobody ever deserves _that ––"_

"It was fine," Steve insisted, however. "They only hurt my ass, and that was just because I didn't get wet right, it was fine."

"No, that's not fine," Bucky argued carefully. "You didn't consent to that, did you?"

Steve didn't answer this time.

"You didn't consent when Ronan picked you up," Bucky stated. "And you didn't want to stay, did you?"

"He took care of me," Steve said in a fast voice. 

"You didn't _want_ him to," Bucky answered. "You were afraid of him, honey, he raped you and let other people rape you, too."

"He – He didn't hurt me," Steve said quickly. 

"Yes, he did!" Bucky said, grabbing the back of Steve's neck now. "Sweetheart, this guy _kidnapped_ and _raped_ you ––"

"No, he was taking care of me!" Steve insisted. "You found me in heat, too, it was the same thing!"

"I didn't _rape_ you!" Bucky said. "Baby, that is nowhere near the same thing, you were heartsick and vomiting, I didn't bring you up here to take advantage of you. This – This Ronan guy ––"

"He never hurt me," Steve just repeated in a shaking voice. "He took care of me; one time, somebody did hit me, he hit them back and threw them out and gave me ice, he took care of me!"

"But he scared you," Bucky said, then grabbed Steve's chin and tilted it up. "You're not afraid of me, right?"

"No!" Steve whined, grabbing Bucky's face, too, cupping his cheeks. "You're nice to me, you give me what I need, you take better care of me, Daddy."

"You were afraid of Ronan," Bucky said hopelessly. 

Steve faltered. He whined and pulled his chin from Bucky's grip, ducking his face into his neck. 

"Steve," Bucky said quietly. "You were raped."

Steve shook his head almost violently. Bucky grabbed the back of his head, holding him in, and kissed his hair. 

"That was rape, baby," he murmured. "It wasn't okay. It wasn't your fault, not remotely. They took advantage of you, took advantage of your heat, they hurt you."

"Ronan didn't beat me," Steve hissed.

Bucky kissed Steve's hair again. "Sometimes that's worse, kiddo."

Steve's breathing hitched. He started to tremble, his hands wrapped around Bucky's shoulders.

"Were you afraid?" Bucky murmured. "You wanted to leave but you were too scared, or you were ashamed, you thought it was your fault and you couldn't leave?"

Steve nodded abruptly. He sucked in a harsh breath and let it out in a sob. Bucky gripped the back of his neck, hushing him softly, as he began petting Steve's hair.

"It wasn't your fault," Bucky said softly. "Those people manipulated you, it was not your fault."

Steve hiccuped, then drew in a shaking breath.

"You're safe now," Bucky said. "Daddy's never gonna hurt you like they did. Your feelings, your needs matter. I only want you to feel good, Stevie."

"I know," Steve mumbled. "I trust you. I never – never told anyone about – about –"

"I understand," Bucky said softly. "I get it, baby. I really do. My grandpa used to molest me when I was a kid, it took me years to listen to anybody when they said it wasn't my fault."

Steve lifted his head, his hands touching Bucky's face again. Bucky pressed their foreheads together and cupped Steve's jaw.

"It's not your fault," Bucky murmured. "Wasn't my fault, neither. People like that want us to think it was, though. Makes them feel more powerful, so they keep makin' like there's something wrong with us. Tell us we'll be in trouble if we say something, or that nobody will believe us, that we shouldn't have made them mad. That sound familiar?"

Steve nodded, swallowing tightly. Bucky stroked his cheek, smiling sadly at him.

"Ronan lied," Bucky said. "It was his fault. I believe it, you can believe that."

Steve nodded again. He swallowed, then ducked his gaze and rubbed his cheek into Bucky's palm. Bucky kissed his forehead, letting it linger. 

"You're safe here," he murmured. "You can believe that."

"I do," Steve whispered back.

"You can say when something reminds you of what Ronan did," Bucky told him. "And I'll never ask it of you again. I can't stand anybody putting anything up my ass 'cause it makes me think about my granddad. You say you're uncomfortable with somethin', you don't gotta explain it or be sorry, I'll believe you."

"Ronan called me sugar," Steve mumbled. "And – and _boy,_ just boy."

"I won't ever call you that," Bucky promised him. "You can believe that."

"I do," Steve answered quietly. "I believe you."

Bucky kissed Steve's temple, then pulled him close. Steve nuzzled against his neck, then let out a deep breath. 

"Is the heat still making you need to be full?" Bucky asked. "I got that toy, baby, you can have it."

Steve shook his head. Bucky looked down, about to ask something else, but then Steve pushed on his shoulder. Bucky rolled out onto his back, then Steve swung a leg over him and straddled his stomach. 

"Is this okay?" Steve asked quietly.

"Yeah," Bucky said, reaching up to cup the side of Steve's neck. "You can have my knot like this, baby."

Steve shook his head. "Just your dick," he said. "I'm– I'm tired. I just wanna have it in me."

"That's fine, baby," Bucky said, smiling at him again. "Whatever you need, I'll always let you have it, sweet boy."

Steve smiled back at him. He reached behind him, maintaining eye contact, and wrapped a hand around Bucky's cock. His rut had kept it stiff, but Bucky didn't feel very sensitive anymore. Steve fit it against his ass, his eyes hooded, and started to sink onto it slowly. Bucky cupped his waist and rubbed circles into his skin with a thumb. Steve let his cock sink into him, settled on it, then let his eyes flutter shut for a moment. Bucky squeezed his waist, then Steve smiled and folded over him, laying down on Bucky's chest. He was just a little too tall to tuck his head under Bucky's chin, so Bucky grabbed some pillows to stack around his shoulders, and Steve rested his head next to Bucky's with the same smile.

"I always felt safe around you," Steve said softly. "Since we met. You always smelled safe to me."

Bucky kissed Steve's nose. "I'm glad, honey," he murmured. "I'm glad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _you might've noticed that the chapter count dropped from 18 to 17, but the schedule is the same, chapters 14 and 15 will be up later today_


	14. Feeling like a fever dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _and here comes bullshittery, be warned_

#  _14: Feeling like a fever dream_

  


Steve's heat was very weak. Bucky said it was possible that his history of abusing suppressants might have altered his cycle, or possibly the serum could have changed it. Steve felt a wave of guilt thinking about his suppressant habits and started to apologize, but Bucky wouldn't let him. 

During the heat, Steve had a lot of emotions and thoughts. He didn't like thinking about his time collared by Ronan, so he never did. He told Peggy he didn't want to talk about it and there had been enough chaos at the time for him to get away without talking about his trauma. Bucky said it was trauma, and Steve was starting to understand how something that never hurt him physically could leave him with trauma.

He cried a lot. He felt ashamed, but Bucky just let him weep. Steve had to admit he felt better after. He talked about how he'd woken up in a strange place with a collar on his neck that he didn't remember putting on and Bucky just held him. Steve told him that Ronan had already been married and bonded, that his wife hated Steve and she used hit him when he crossed her. Steve hadn't thought that could be abuse, since it had been a woman and she was suffering, too, but Bucky explained that she could have been complicit even if she wasn't involved in holding him captive. She knew Steve was her Alpha’s captive and she never tried to help him, she blamed Steve instead of Ronan, Bucky insisted. That was no better.

After a few days, Steve was exhausted again and his body felt broken. Bucky gave him over-the-counter pain killers and Steve was surprised by how they managed to take the edge off his aches and pains. The heat never left him desperate to be knotted, he didn't want to be bred, and Steve admitted that he hadn't felt that way since he woke up in Ronan's collar. Bucky didn't care.

Four days in, Steve woke up in the early morning to his phone ringing. Bucky was wrapped around him, snoring softly. He was warm and held Steve securely, and the last thing Steve wanted to do was answer his phone and hear that he needed to leave. 

Steve still picked it up and answered the call. He held it to his ear and said gruffly, "Rogers."

_"This is Agent Sitwell,"_ a bored male voice reported. _"We have texted you coordinates, you need to be there within the hour. Are you in DC?"_

"I'm in New York," Steve exhaled tiredly.

_"Fine, get to the coordinates as soon as ––"_

The phone was pulled from Steve's hand.

"Whoever this is," Bucky said in an irritable, sleep-rough voice, "you can fuck off for at minimum the next three days. Rogers is on leave."

Steve twisted around as Bucky hung up the call with a firm jab to the screen with his thumb. Steve watched him power the phone off, then drop it outside the nest. Bucky pulled Steve back into his chest and smacked his lips, eyes shutting already. 

Steve turned onto his other side and threw his arms around Bucky, knocking him onto his back with the force of his hug. Bucky let out a grunt, but grabbed him back just as tightly. 

"Thank you," Steve mumbled weakly. " _Thank you._ "

Bucky squeezed the back of his neck. "Anytime, babydoll."

Steve had wanted Bucky to put his foot down for months. Having it happen felt like the weight of the shield was finally lifting off his back. The muscles between his shoulders finally relaxed. He could stay home. He didn’t have to keep running.

*

"You sure you'll be alright on your own?" Bucky asked worriedly, holding Steve's face in both hands tenderly. "I can get another day off, it's not a problem, honey."

"I'm fine," Steve answered him, smiling. "I'll just curl up in the nest and catch up on some TV."

"If you're sure," Bucky sighed. "There's plenty of food in the fridge, and you can call me whenever you need me; I can run home if you start dropping, baby, I swear it's no trouble."

Steve leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. Bucky shut up even as Steve flushed a pretty color. 

"I'll be fine," Steve repeated. "But I'll call you during your breaks, Daddy."

"Alright," Bucky said at last. He leaned in and kissed Steve's forehead, then nuzzled their noses together.

"You're gonna be late," Steve told him.

"Not if I skip coffee," Bucky said. 

Steve gave his shoulder a light shove, still smiling. "You need your caffeine," he insisted. "I'll be fine, I promise."

Bucky pulled back reluctantly. Steve stepped away from him, then dropped back into the nest and curled up, smiling up at Bucky adorably. 

"I love you," Bucky blurted.

Steve grinned, his cheeks went pink, and he hugged a pillow to him like a teddy bear. "I love you, too, Daddy," he said softly.

Bucky crouched down and gave him one more quick kiss, because he really might be late, and got up to hurry out the door before his resolve crumpled and he called out. 

It felt weird to be going back to his normal routine after the past few days. There had been a lot of honesty between him and Steve, actually more than Bucky had ever shared with any one given person. His sister knew some things about his drinking, but not their grandfather. Sam knew about his grandfather and his drinking, but not the fuckery of self-blame and shame Bucky had carried for so long. The shrink he'd gone to briefly when he first quit drinking knew more than anyone else, but Bucky had never admitted his grandfather had gone so far as to stick things up his ass.

Just walking to work felt strange when Steve knew so much now. It felt a little like gravity had gone off-center, or maybe Bucky just felt lighter. Maybe.

Bucky got his coffee, just like his Omega had ordered him to. When he got to work and clocked in, he felt more than ready to face the shift ahead. 

Around midnight, a young girl with a black eye and a broken arm told him her father had thrown her down the stairs. Bucky signed her in for the night and calmly told her parents they wouldn't be able to set her arm properly until the morning. They left and Bucky called Child Services, within an hour, he knew the girl didn't have to go home. At about 2, Bucky recognized the bruising on a woman's arm and asked her the uncomfortable questions necessary. The answers were yes and Bucky gave her a phone number and an excuse to stay the night away from her Alpha. He left her with something to help her sleep and dismissed the questions of her Alpha, nudging him along until he left. Bucky missed the quiet of the Heat Ward, but he saw a lot of humanity in the ICU and every time he was able to help someone like Steve recognize the shit in their lives, every kid he encouraged to speak up, Bucky felt a little bit more human himself.

*

Steve was dozing when a knock came to the door. He sat up, rubbed at his eyes, then the knock came again and he got up to answer the door.

Natasha was standing there. Steve broke into a grin and grabbed her in a hug. Natasha yelped a little bit, and at first, she was stiff, but then she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him in return. 

"You look better," Natasha murmured. 

"I am," Steve admitted. "I really am."

Steve let her go and pulled her inside. Natasha looked around curiously, but Steve dropped back into the nest and pulled her with him.

"Shit, Rogers," Natasha laughed, falling onto her ass, "what are you, a baby?"

"No," Steve said confidently, wrapping her arms around his middle and settling his head on her shoulder, "I'm nine."

Natasha laughed softly. Steve shut his eyes, ignoring the TV now, and relaxed with her warmth. Natasha began to pet his hair and he smiled.

"You really are better," Natasha said softly. "That's good."

"I got a good Dom," Steve said. "And he's a good person. He got me to talk. I feel better."

"Yeah," Natasha answered. "That's good. That's great."

Steve hummed a little more. Natasha stroked down his hair, then paused, taking her hand away. Steve lifted his head to see her pulling her phone out.

"What?" he asked.

Natasha just turned her phone off. "It's nothing," she said. "What are you watching?"

"It's called The Powerpuff Girls!" Steve said excitedly, twisting onto his back to point to the TV, where the colorful cartoon was still going. "That one's Buttercup, she's grumpy like you."

"Tell me about it," Natasha told him.

Steve launched into an explanation of the show. Natasha continued to pet his hair as he talked. Eventually, Steve concluded the story and got quiet, and Natasha just let him fall asleep on her shoulder. 

*

Bucky started his last rounds around 7AM. His relief came in at 7:30 and after briefing her, Bucky was able to clock out on time at 8. He talked to Natasha around 6, he'd been surprised but glad to know she'd arrived to keep Steve company. He texted them as he left for requests from the store, as he had time to stop on his way home. 

Steve had regressed, according to Natasha, and he asked for spaghetti, which tracked. Bucky would have been glad to make it from scratch, but didn't want to spend more time away from Steve once he got home. He got off the subway a stop early for the store, and he was walking up the stairs to his building by 9:30.

Natasha opened the door before Bucky could get his keys out. She took the groceries from him and just jerked her head to the nest behind her, then headed into the kitchen. Bucky spotted Steve curled up on his side in the next, paused just long enough to kick his shoes off and hang up his jacket, then crawled into the nest and on top of Steve.

"Hi, baby boy," Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek. "You wanna wake up?"

Steve yawned. Bucky kissed his temple, then started a trail down the side of his face to his neck. Steve giggled and hunched his shoulders as Bucky's stubble caught his skin, so Bucky rubbed his jaw over Steve's shoulder. 

"Baby," Bucky rumbled, "you gonna wake up and say hi to your Daddy?"

Steve twisted his shoulders back, blinked his eyes open, and Bucky grinned down at him. Steve let out an excited noise and flung his arms around his neck. Bucky let out a laugh and caught Steve up in a hug, rolling them over until Steve was on top of him. Steve kissed him, his lips clumsy, but Bucky didn't care.

"Hi, sweetie," Bucky murmured against his lips. "How was your day?"

Steve lay down and put his face in Bucky's neck. "Good," he said, sounding and smelling delighted.

Bucky squeezed him gently. "I'm glad."

Natasha excused herself not long after Bucky got home. Steve waved to her when she left, but didn't get up from the nest. Bucky got up to make dinner, leaving him with a kiss and a new show to watch; _Avatar: The Last Airbender._ He gave Steve a teddy bear to hold, too, and made sure he was warm. Steve snuggled down, relaxed and happy, and Bucky headed into the kitchen to start cooking.

Maybe ten minutes later, he heard Steve's phone ringing. Bucky wiped his hands dry and headed into the living room, but Steve had already answered the phone.

"What?" Steve said into the phone, sounding much too stern for a little in headspace.

Bucky walked up and held out his hand. Steve glanced at him, then a look of relief covered his face and handed over the phone. Bucky touched it to his ear, already walking away to keep it away from Steve.

_" – you're required to be at these coordinates in the next hour,"_ Bucky heard.

"Who is this?" Bucky interrupted.

The voice on the line stopped. _"Who is this?"_ they countered.

"This is Captain Rogers' Dominant," Bucky said in a short tone. "Who am I talking to?"

_"I beg your pardon? Captain Rogers' what?"_

"His Dominant," Bucky snapped, but kept his voice low as he moved further into the kitchen; he didn't want Steve hearing.

_"Captain Rogers does not have a Dominant,"_ the voice on the phone retorted. _"Whoever you are, you are interfering with SHIELD activities–"_

"Nice try," Bucky cut them off again. "Last I checked, Captain Rogers was not required to report a change in his relationship status to his employer, but I collared him over a month ago. He's currently in my care and whatever you want him for, he's not showing up any time soon; he took a heat week only five days ago and he has the right to two more days beyond today before he has to return to work."

The SHIELD agent on the phone went quiet. Bucky turned back to the stove, now completely unconcerned; SHIELD had no legal authority to compel any Omega into returning to work early after a heat and they had even less authority to try and convince a Submissive in their employ to disobey their Dominant.

"Tell your bosses to stop calling," Bucky said. "Goodbye."

He dropped the phone from his ear and hung up. Bucky tucked it into his pocket, then centered the pot of water for the pasta on the burner and turned the fire on under it.

"Daddy?"

Bucky stepped out of the kitchen into the living room again. Steve was sitting up in the nest, looking worried. 

"Am I gonna get in trouble?" Steve asked quietly. 

"No, baby," Bucky answered quickly, closing the distance between them and taking Steve's face in his hands. "You don't have to go back to work for another couple days and they really shouldn't be calling you anyway."

"They shouldn't?" Steve questioned, frowning.

"No," Bucky said. "Oh, I bet you don't know about Norma Boone V Walmart, do you?"

Steve just frowned at him.

"It was a Supreme Court decision in 1979," Bucky said, "employers are required to give Omegas no less than seven days leave for heat. That's a federal law, honey, it even applies to SHIELD."

"Oh," Steve mumbled. 

Bucky kissed Steve's forehead. "You lay your pretty head down again, sweet boy," he said, "I'll have dinner ready in a bit, okay?"

Steve nodded. He tilted his chin up and Bucky gave him a peck to the lips before getting up, returning to the kitchen. He opened a jar of mushroom and herbs marinara sauce and dumped it into a pot, gave it a stir and turned the heat on under it.

Steve's phone started ringing. Bucky took it out, then sighed as he saw the caller ID; an unknown number. He declined the call, shaking his head, and just turned the phone off before he put it back in his pocket.

Bucky got the linguini into the boiling water and added meatballs to the sauce before Steve's phone started ringing yet again. Bucky took it out of his pocket, amazed at SHIELD's audacity, as the phone continued ringing. Bucky declined the call and turned the phone off again, then put it on the counter and watched it.

Five minutes later, it turned itself back in. Bucky started to turn it off, but an unknown number calling came through first. Angry now, Bucky finally answered it.

"You people got a lotta nerve!" Bucky hissed into the phone.

_"This is Agent Sitwell from SHIELD, may I presume I'm speaking with James Barnes?"_

"Yeah," Bucky snapped, "and I fuckin' _aced_ my civil rights class, so you ain't pullin' no bullshit over my head here ––"

_"Whatever Captain Rogers chooses to do in his personal life is irrelevant to his work with SHIELD,"_ Sitwell answered calmly. _"This includes any relationship he may or may not have with yourself, Mr. Barnes. Do you still go by your rank, I see you are active in the National Guard still?"_

"Cut the cute shit," Bucky snapped. "You're not fooling me. Steve's not going anywhere until his federally mandated–"

_"Captain Rogers is legally an Alpha and his rank on file is 9-0,"_ Sitwell interrupted Bucky. _"There is no federally mandated leave for rut, Mr. Barnes, as you are well aware. Any further interference with SHIELD activities on your part will be treated as a felony offense. Return this device to Captain Rogers so I may brief him for his mission."_

Bucky dropped the phone and hung up. Heart pounding, he popped the case off, then the back, and took the battery out. SHIELD wouldn't be able to remotely start it without that.

"Daddy?" Steve called from the other side of the wall.

"Just a second, honey," Bucky said, taking out his phone instead. 

"They're not listening," Steve said anyway.

"It's okay," Bucky promised him, walking into Steve's view and smiling. "I'm gonna take care of it, baby, don't worry about it."

Steve was sitting up, though. "I should just go in," he tried to say.

"No, you shouldn't have to," Bucky said, doing his best not to let his frustration come through his voice. "They've not been treating you right and it ends now."

Steve lay down again, but he wasn't smiling anymore. He was ignoring the show and his bear. Bucky felt incredibly frustrated that his headspace had been ruined, but he was determined to keep SHIELD off his back. No more missions until he dropped dead from exhaustion, no more legally an Alpha bullshit, no more shit in general. Bucky called Natasha and walked back into the kitchen, hoping to keep Steve from hearing.

_"What?"_ Natasha answered the call gruffly as always. 

"Your bosses are trying to get Steve on a mission right now," Bucky said. "An Agent Sitwell told me flat out that they're disregarding his rights as an Omega and a Submissive; according to him, Steve is legally an Alpha and Dominant."

_"I know,"_ Natasha answered quietly. _“They called me.”_

"What the fuck are we doing about it?" Bucky hissed. "This Sitwell guy told me if I kept taking Steve's calls, _I_ would be in legal trouble! This isn't right!"

_"It's not,"_ Natasha agreed. _"But it's reality."_

Bucky stopped, his chest tightening. "What does that mean?"

_"I'll be there in an hour to pick Steve up,"_ Natasha said in a tired voice. Bucky had never heard so much emotion from her. _"I'll take care of him, Barnes."_

"No," Bucky snapped, "no, do _not_ tell me you're taking their side! This is bullshit!"

_"You and me can do nothing about it,"_ Natasha said. _"Believe me, I tried. I got him time to wait until you got off work, but I can't help him anymore."_

"No, this isn't _fair!"_ Bucky hissed. "C'mon, you have to understand ––"

_"Yeah, I know,"_ Natasha snapped. _"There is nothing that you or I can do now. Do you understand?"_

Bucky moved his mouth uselessly, just standing there. 

_"You and me can do nothing,"_ Natasha repeated, now sounding angry. _"You get it, Barnes?"_

Bucky jerked. He turned on the spot and stared through the wall to where he knew Steve was. 

"You and me can't do it," Bucky repeated back numbly. "Is your phone bugged?"

He got a dial tone. Bucky dropped the phone from his ear, then sighed and walked out into the living room.

Steve was already up and pulling on a pair of panties under his heat shift. Bucky faced him sadly, feeling defeated.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It – No one's listening to me."

"Why would they?" Steve answered sharply. "As a high-ranked Dominant Alpha, there’s no need for me to waste this much time lying around.”

Bucky winced. "Sweetheart," he sighed. 

Steve strode up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Bucky dug his fingers into Steve's back.

"I'm sorry," Bucky repeated softly. 

"Me, too," Steve murmured. "I wish it was different."

Bucky pushed him back and cupped his face. "It can be different," he said. "You just gotta try, honey."

Steve didn't look like he believed Bucky this time. Bucky brushed his hair back from his forehead, then cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss his forehead.

“Don’t spend a month away this time,” Bucky murmured. “Okay? Come home in – In at least a week, sweet pea.”

Steve let out a little laugh, almost strangled. He dropped his head onto Bucky’s shoulder and hugged him tightly, like he didn’t want to let go. Bucky didn’t want him to let go.

“Nobody’s ever called me sweet pea,” Steve mumbled.

“I think it’s as cute as you are,” Bucky declared, squeezing the back of Steve’s neck. “You deserve to be cute, baby.”

“Okay,” Steve answered softly.

“And when you get back,” Bucky added, “we’ll go pamper ourselves, alright? Go for a spa day, so Daddy can treat his cute boy, how’s that sound?”

Steve nodded. Bucky turned his head and kissed at Steve’s neck, now just holding him.

The smoke alarm suddenly went off. Bucky jerked and guiltily ran for the stove, switching the fire off from under the spaghetti sauce. Fortunately, Steve just laughed.

“It’s not even burning,” Steve complained.

“I keep telling Clint those fucking sensors are too sensitive!” Bucky insisted, waving a towel over the barely visible steam coming from the pot. “C’mere, doll,” he added, sighing, “least you can do is eat before Natasha comes to get you.”

Steve walked into the kitchen and sat down, tugging the shift over his knees. He’d worn nothing but the little dresses the past few days, telling Bucky they had been a good investment. 

Bucky thought he looked like a little angel in the thin white cotton fabric, and he honestly dreaded seeing Steve wrapped up again in the mess of kevlar and buckles that was his uniform. It might do wonders for his figure, but it made him look harder than he really was, like the steely Dominant that SHIELD wanted him to be. Steve was soft and sweet and he deserved gentle cottons and smooth satins.

“You gotta talk to them about how they’re treating you, Stevie,” Bucky said carefully. “It’s not fair to you. You deserve better.”

Steve looked down at his lap, but he nodded.

“I’m serious,” Bucky said. “They keep running you dry, it kills me to see you get hurt the way you do.”

“I can take it,” Steve mumbled.

“Doesn’t mean you _have_ to,” Bucky said.

Steve didn’t look up. Bucky checked the linguini, then moved closer and knelt in front of Steve, picking up his hands.

“Before you got heat-sick a few months ago,” Bucky started softly, “I could tell even then that you weren’t healthy. Not just your eating problems and the suppressants; you hardly had time to rest. That’s not good for anyone. Not even a super-soldier.”

“I do good,” Steve mumbled without looking at Bucky.

“You do,” Bucky agreed, “and believe me, I was glad you were with us organizing shit when the Chitauri hit –”

“You were here when the Chitauri invaded?” Steve cut him off, now looking up with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “I’m reserve-National Guard, they activated me, that’s not my point, honey –”

“I didn’t see you!” Steve interrupted again.

“I wasn’t near Stark Tower,” Bucky explained. “Listen, baby.”

Steve shut his mouth with a snap, looking guilty. Bucky reached up and cupped his cheek.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I just want you to know, you do amazing things as Captain America, you do, and there will always be a day where there’s a job that only you can do, but sometimes there are jobs that anybody could do, baby, and I want you to really think about it the next time SHIELD sends you out someplace that doesn’t really need you, because your needs matter, too. And you need to rest more often than when your body breaks down in stress and exhaustion.”

Steve bit his lip. Bucky pushed up and kissed his forehead, then Steve wrapped around him and he stood there, letting Steve lean on him.

“Plus it ain’t fair that they won’t let you take care of your fucking biological needs,” Bucky added. “Utter bullshit that they’re pulling right now, you’re not even fully out of heat and they’re activating you. That’s some serious assholery, sweetie, you got every right t’a sue them.”

“Can’t,” Steve mumbled. “Signed a piece’a paper in 1941 agreein’ that I’d fake bein’ an Alpha for the military.”

“There’s faking and then there’s being thrown into combat in heat still,” Bucky countered. “And frankly, honey, that piece of paper should be torn up already, ‘cause that’s some serious Alpha-centrism that doesn’t need to keep existing.”

Steve nodded a little. Bucky bent and kissed the top of his hair.

“Just come home soon,” he murmured. “If not for you, for me. I feel better when I know where you are.”

“I get the feeling,” Steve agreed softly. “Okay. One mission, then I’ll come home.”

Bucky smiled. “One mission,” he repeated.

*

Steve was ready to go when Natasha let herself back into the building. He was standing in the hallway, the shield propped up on the wall beside him. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

Natasha looked apologetic. Steve just pushed off the wall and grabbed his shield, swinging it onto his back. 

"You're my backup," Natasha said, opening the door for him. "We take a quinjet from Fort Hamilton to Cuba, then you just wait for me."

"Seems like you don't really need me," Steve replied, feeling bitter. 

"Not you, specifically," Natasha sighed. "But Pierce has been lobbying to reduce out footprint lately, which means using better assets that need less backup."

She unlocked her car and Steve got in, swinging his shield off and propping it up by his knees. Natasha walked around to the driver's seat. 

"You ever wonder how much good we're really doing?" Steve blurted impulsively. 

Natasha put on her seat belt, then gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. 

"Lately?" she questioned. "Yeah."

Steve turned his gaze forward as Natasha turned the engine. He still felt achy, his suit felt too tight around the chest and his skin itched under the scent-block patches, just from the medicine entering his body through the skin. He understood why Clint only wore them for missions.

Natasha pulled into traffic. Steve sent Bucky a text, telling him that hopefully the recon mission would be over and done with quickly. At least it was Sunday, Bucky would be home when Steve got back.

"What are you even doing in Cuba?" Steve asked.

"Honestly," Natasha sighed, "I don't know. I'm breaking into a research base. I don't know why Pierce cares about it."

"Great," Steve grumbled. 

*

Bucky felt too restless to go to bed after Steve left. Knowing that he was just Natasha's backup didn't help, because he was sure that anyone could have gone with her on this mission and SHIELD were more than taking advantage of Steve now. The injustice of the situation left him frustrated and itching to _do_ something, but Natasha was right, there was nothing that Bucky could do. It was up to Steve now.

Still, he couldn't sleep. Bucky ended up getting dressed again and walking out, figuring he could work out his excess energy. His feet carried him almost automatically towards the community center, so he went in. There was a VA meeting in the main hall already going, but checking the schedule, Bucky saw that in just 20 minutes, a support group for abuse survivors would be gathering in the gym. Bucky was fine attending AA and he'd been to group therapy at the VA plenty of times, but he'd never gone to anything like that.

He didn't have anything else to do, and it wasn't like he had to say anything. He could listen, learn something, maybe something that might help Steve. Or at the very least Bucky could help whoever was running the meeting put out chairs and bail at the last second. He'd done that for a few support groups. 

Bucky walked into the gym. He was surprised to see Clint there, unfolding chairs.

"Hi," Bucky said, suddenly feeling awkward. 

Clint looked up, but he just grinned at Bucky. "Come on in," he said, "grab some chairs, make yourself useful."

"'S what I walked in here for," Bucky admitted, heading for the rack of folding chairs. 

"Not for the donuts?" Clint joked.

"Ooh, donuts," Bucky said, quickly changing course.

Clint laughed at him. Bucky grabbed a chocolate-covered donut and ate half in one bite, then headed back to the rack and grabbed a chair.

"Nat told me she was taking Steve out," Clint said casually. 

Bucky nodded, still chewing. He took another bite anyway so he would have an excuse to keep his mouth shut.

"Did you know SHIELD's had budget cuts?" Clint added.

Bucky looked up, cheeks bulging a little, and shook his head. Clint nodded, looking down.

"The new boss is expediting efficiency," he said. "Making room for the young blood, stuff like that."

Bucky swallowed, unfolding the chair. "Bureaucracy at its finest," he said a little frustratedly.

"Yep," Clint said. "They let me go."

Bucky looked up sharply. Clint gave him a shrug and a tired smile.

"I'm not as young as I once was," he said, "plus they always had to accommodate my deafness. I'm not efficient enough for them anymore."

"Shit," Bucky exhaled. "Clint, that's – that's ridiculous –!"

Clint shrugged again. "Tony gave me a job as soon as he heard, so I still have health insurance and everything. I might need to crash in Steve's spare room," he added with a weak laugh.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to let you," Bucky said quickly. "I can't believe you got fired over being deaf!"

"Well, officially it was my age," Clint sighed. "But that's not much better."

"Shit," Bucky repeated tiredly. "You know they twisted Steve into going back into the field already? They stiffed him the last two days of heat leave 'cause they refuse to acknowledge his designation."

"Yeah, I know," Clint said. "They forced the STRIKE guys he was with last week to sign gag orders and agree that Steve wasn't in heat, he was just sick. Natasha told me."

"I almost want Steve to quit," Bucky admitted. "Is that bad?"

Clint snorted. "Fuck no, Natasha is thinking of leaving and I might've quit by now if they hadn't kicked me out. Ever since Fury disobeyed the council to put the Avengers in the middle of the Chitauri incident, they put Pierce in charge and things at SHIELD have been more about politics than anything else."

Bucky exhaled hard, shaking his head. Clint shrugged and headed back to the rack of folding chairs, taking down another one.

"Tony's going to ask Natasha and Steve to leave SHIELD, anyway," Clint added. "The Avengers aren't an official squad at SHIELD, which means Stark Industries could change that. Me and Bruce are already there."

"Would Tony let Steve clear his heat before sending him out on some bullshit recon mission?" Bucky countered.

"Definitely," Clint answered. 

The gym doors opened again. Bucky looked over his shoulder and saw a woman walking in with her hands deep in her pocket. Clint grinned at her and abandoned the chairs to go greet her. Bucky turned back to them and took down two more chairs.

"Hey, Bucky," Clint said, now walking up with the woman. "This is Kate, she's my protege."

Bucky put down and unfolded the chairs, then held out his hand to Kate. She took it and shook firmly.

"This is a buddy of mine," Clint said, "you can call him Bucky."

"Hi," Kate said softly.

"Hey," Bucky answered, giving her what he hoped was a polite smile. "Nice to meet you."

"I brought you gluten-free donuts," Clint said, taking Kate's shoulder and walking her away.

Bucky resumed putting out chairs. He checked his phone once people started trickling in, seeing it was close to noon. The chairs all put out, Bucky decided he could sit and listen even if he didn't say anything. Clint didn't seem bothered that he was there, and Bucky had always felt like Clint was his friend, not just his landlord.

There were more Alphas in the group than Bucky had expected, but he shouldn't have been surprised; he was an obvious example. Clint didn't actually lead the meeting, Kate did. Clint did talk first, and he seemed to have an almost blasé attitude as he spoke about the bullying he grew up with over being deaf; from his peers and his father. 

As the circle went around, Bucky heard a lot of testimonies that reminded him of Steve; masters that turned into abusers was an all-too-common problem. There were three Omegas in the circle that had found themselves collared by a Dominant after being found in heat, with no memory of how they got there. And as it got closer and closer to his turn, Bucky heard plenty of testimony about parents or grandparents that molested their kids. 

He still declined to give a testimony. Kate promised it was fine, and Bucky wasn't the only one.

*

"Natasha, what's going on in there?" Steve asked through the comm.

_"Bullshittery,"_ Natasha answered sharply, then Steve heard gunfire. 

"Fuck," he spat, already jumping up. "I'm on my way."

_"You ever think about retirement?"_ Natasha joked with shouting and bullets ricocheting in the background. 

"Am now," Steve muttered, dropping the hatch and jumping out.

*

Bucky lingered to help Clint put the chairs back. Kate helped, too, while a few people loitered around the donuts. Clint talked to some of them, leaving Bucky and Kate by themselves.

"Do you not like groups or are you still reeling?" Kate asked Bucky.

He shrugged. "Both, sort of."

"I feel that," Kate answered. "I've seen you at AA, my meeting's across the hall and it starts while you guys are leaving."

"Oh," Bucky said. 

"To be honest," Kate added. "Figured I'd like to know."

"Yeah, no, thanks," Bucky answered. "I, uh, I talk more there."

"I get it," Kate promised. "Some shit's harder to talk about."

Bucky just nodded. Kate didn't press any further as they put the rest of the chairs away.

*

Steve crouched behind his shield, covering himself and Natasha while she downloaded the last byte of data she had to steal. The base turned out to be AIM, so at least they weren't starting anything international now that they'd been caught. 

"Got it!" Natasha called. 

"Stay behind me," Steve ordered, "we're moving toward the west exit, get the jet in position while I cover us."

"Copy," Natasha confirmed. "West."

Steve started strafing left, popping up to return fire with his frankly useless pistol. The AIM guards had automatic weapons, he and Natasha had Glocks and non-lethals. Steve, particularly, had to fight to carry a weapon at all. _"Captain America resolves conflict peacefully,"_ Secretary Pierce kept saying, _"guns just don't match the image."_

Fuck his image, Steve thought.

*

Bucky was finally exhausted enough to sleep when he got home around 4 in the afternoon. He would get to sleep in, at least, since his next shift was Wednesday night. 

But even tired, he needed to clean up the nest. He needed to sleep in his bedroom. Bucky dragged everything back to his room and stuffed the blankets and sheets into a basket, then took it down to the basement to start them in the washer. He went back upstairs, took a shower, and collapsed into his barely made bed, just before 6 o'clock.

It felt like only a minute later that someone banging on the front door woke him up. Bucky jerked awake, grabbing the combat knife he kept strapped by the bed. For a second he felt like he couldn’t breathe because the air around him was so thick with humidity. Then the knock came again, the air he sucked into his lungs was comfortable and dry, and Bucky relaxed, though irritated. He checked the time as he got up, expecting that Clint or Becca were looking for him.

The knocks came again as Bucky stumbled into pants. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, exiting his bedroom. He reached the front door and unlocked it, already saying, “It’s three AM –”

Steve was there, his shoulders hunched in and his nose taped, dirty and bloody. Bucky felt a shock go through his system; he felt very awake now.

“Oh,” Bucky exhaled.

“Could I use your shower?” Steve said in a blank tone. 

“Jesus, come in!” Bucky said, grabbing Steve's arms and pulling him inside. “What the hell happened to you?" he demanded, looking Steve up and down. "I thought the mission was supposed to be recon!”

“Bad intel,” Steve mumbled, swaying on his feet like he was about to collapse. “Careful, I think my ribs are broken,” he added emotionlessly.

“You think?” Bucky said, horrified; he pushed Steve back by his shoulders and looked down at his chest. “Did you not go to a hospital?”

Steve just blinked at him. Bucky let go of him and dragged a hand down his face, trying to contain his new frustration.

“I might not be a superhero,” he said carefully, “but I am a nurse, and if you have broken ribs, you should see a doctor.”

“They’ll heal by morning,” Steve just said. “There’s no point –”

“No point?” Bucky cut him off, getting sharp unintentionally. “You’re in pain!”

Steve dropped Bucky's gaze, his shoulders drawing in again. Bucky internally winced and carefully touched Steve's shoulders again.

“Steve?” Bucky questioned softly.

“I’ll go,” Steve muttered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve – I’ll just go back to my place –”

Bucky grabbed Steve's arm as he started to turn away, gently pulling him back. “Hey,” he murmured, “don’t walk out on me here.”

Steve left his eyes on the ground, still just staring blankly. Bucky reached up and cupped his cheek.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he said as gently as he could. “Then take you to the ER and get your ribs looked at. Okay, honey?”

For a second, Steve didn't move. Bucky started to worry that Steve had zoned out and hadn't heard him, but then Steve gave a quick nod. He swayed for another second, then he jerked forward and wrapped one arm around Bucky's waist, burying his face in his neck while his left arm hung close to his left side. Bucky caught him, wrapped carefully around his shoulders and gripped the back of Steve's neck.

“I just wanted to come home,” Steve mumbled in a weak voice.

Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve's hair, which was streaked with dirt and blood from the cut on his forehead. “You’re home,” he said gently. “You’re home, Omegamine," he repeated, wanting Steve to know it without a doubt. 

Steve trembled for a second. He was clearly having trouble breathing deeply, and given how he didn't want to move his left arm, Bucky guessed it was his left side that was injured. 

Bucky pulled back carefully and cupped Steve's face, looking at the cut on his forehead. Steve was still just blinking, but his breathing was getting quicker and his shoulders were shaking.

"Come on," Bucky said, "to the bathroom."

Steve shuffled his feet to follow Bucky. He winced when Bucky had him sit down on the toilet and he wrapped his right arm around his waist, then leaned back against the toilet and dropped his head back with a groan, shutting his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," Bucky said quickly, opening the cabinet by the mirror to get out his first aid supplies. "That cut looks nasty, you might have a concussion."

"I'm tired," Steve mumbled. 

Bucky stepped in front of him, holding a penlight, and cupped the back of his head, pulling it back. "Look at me," he said.

Steve followed his hand and blinked at Bucky. Bucky clicked the light and passed it in front of Steve's eyes carefully; his eyes were dilated, but the left constricted more than the right as Bucky passed the light in front of him. 

"Looks like a concussion, sweet pea," Bucky said carefully. 

Steve grimaced. Bucky turned and put the penlight on the counter, then grabbed an alcohol wipe and some butterfly strips.

"It'll heal," Steve started to say as Bucky turned around again.

"Is that what you told the medics that cleared you to go home with a concussion?" Bucky asked him, holding back the anger from his tone.

"Didn't see a medic," Steve said. 

Bucky shut his eyes and counted to ten, then refocused and wiped the cut on Steve's forehead the alcohol swab.

"Why not?" he asked evenly.

Steve blew his breath out. "Natasha patched me up," he said, "Sitwell debriefed us and said we could go home."

Bucky nodded. "Alright," he answered wearily. "They should've made you get looked at right away, doll, but I'm glad you came right home."

"Was tired," Steve mumbled. 

"Maybe because of the brain-rattling," Bucky said in a forced-calm. "But don't worry about it, honey, I got'chu now."

"I'm your honey?" Steve asked. 

"Yeah," Bucky said, taking his confusion in stride. "You're my honey, you're my baby, my sweet little boy."

"Okay," Steve answered, smiling a little bit. 

Bucky taped the cut together, then turned back again and grabbed a bandage to cover it with. He brushed Steve's hair away, then applied the bandage over the butterfly strips. 

"Let's get you out of that uncomfy uniform, huh?" Bucky prompted. "Do you still feel sore?"

Steve nodded, blinking at Bucky dazedly. "Why am I sore?" he asked with a slight frown.

"You're getting over a heat," Bucky reminded him. "You were still hot and achy when you left yesterday."

"Why'd I go out if I was still in heat?" Steve questioned, frowning more, but that clearly pulled at his forehead because he stopped and winced.

Bucky cupped his cheek and rubbed a thumb just under the bandage, making Steve relax his face. He blinked again, then leaned forward and pressed his face into Bucky's stomach. 

"Believe me, neither of us wanted you to go," Bucky said softly. "Sitwell didn't give you an option."

"He's a jerk," Steve muttered. "I hate him."

"I'd have to agree," Bucky said. "C'mon, let Daddy get'chu undressed, honey."

Steve leaned back and let Bucky help him to his feet. He swayed again and Bucky kept a hand on his waist as Steve blinked. 

"Hold onto the counter," Bucky encouraged Steve, guiding him back towards it. "There you go."

Having done it once made getting through the buckles and fasteners on Steve's suit didn't make it any easier. Bucky had to work for a few minutes, but he finally got Steve undressed down to his underwear. Steve seemed shy all of a sudden and he covered his chest with his right arm. Bucky peeled the scent-block patches off his glands, throwing them away as Steve let out a relieved sigh.

"Do you want to wash yourself real quick before you get dressed again?" Bucky asked. 

Steve glanced down himself, then nodded. Bucky turned and grabbed a washcloth off the shelf behind them, then turned the sink on, getting the water hot before sticking the cloth under it.

"You need help or do you want me to step out?" Bucky added.

"I'm dizzy," Steve mumbled. 

"I'll help you," Bucky said quickly. "Lean on the counter for me, baby."

Steve put his back to the mirror and lowered his arm, blushing down to his chest. Bucky wrung out the washcloth, then started at Steve's neck. Steve shut his eyes and let out a low moan as Bucky took the warm cloth over his shoulders and some tension left him. Bucky got under Steve's arms, down his back, and over his front, then had him turn around and, getting the cloth warm again, went down his legs. Steve's arm was trembling as he leaned on the counter and Bucky dried him off with a towel, then took Steve's elbow and guided him away from the counter. 

"I'll give you some sweatpants and a T-shirt," Bucky said, taking Steve out of the bathroom. "Are you okay getting in a cab, kiddo?"

"What?" Steve replied, looking confused. 

"A taxi," Bucky restated. 

"Why?" Steve asked, frowning again.

"So we can get to the ER," Bucky reminded him. "Your ribs might be broken and you have a concussion?"

Steve blinked at him. "I'll heal," he said blankly.

Bucky gave him a weary smile. "Indulge Daddy, sweetie, it's for my peace of mind."

Steve blinked again, then seemed to accept it; he flicked his eyebrows up and said, "Okay, Daddy."

Bucky got a fresh pair of panties for Steve and clean clothes. He had Steve sit at his desk chair to get dressed, since he was complaining of dizziness. Bucky got his phone out while he was helping Steve get dressed and called a cab company. 

"I need a ride to Brooklyn General ER," he said, "as soon as possible."

_"I can have someone there in 20 minutes, howzat?"_

"Fine," Bucky agreed, knowing there wouldn't be anything better at this time of night.

Bucky had Steve put on a pair of Crocs, then made him stay put while he got dressed. Steve's head lolled onto his shoulder a few times and Bucky had to wake him up. He still wasn't sure if Steve definitely had a concussion and he didn't want to take any risks. Bucky got into clothes and shoes quickly, then helped Steve to his feet.

"Should I get you new patches?" Bucky asked him. 

Steve blinked at him for a second. "What patches?" he returned.

"Scent-blockers," Bucky said. "No, they'd just take them off at the hospital."

"Why do I need scent-blockers?" Steve questioned anyway.

Bucky hesitated. He checked the time, then pulled Steve's right arm over his shoulders and took his hip. "Let's get downstairs," he said.

"Am I undercover?" Steve asked. 

"No," Bucky said, sighing heavily. "Your call-sign is supposed to be an Alpha."

"That's dumb," Steve said. 

"It is," Bucky agreed. "But you know what? So is sending an agent who clearly has a concussion out without giving them medical attention."

"Okay, Daddy," Steve replied to that easily.

Bucky got Steve downstairs and let them out, locking up behind them; Steve leaned against the building while Bucky locked the door and Bucky had to gently nudge him awake. Steve leaned on him and mumbled something under his breath, but the taxi pulled up at the same time and Bucky got distracted from asking what he was saying. 

The driver got out and jogged up the steps to meet them. "Heya," he greeted, "your Omega alright, pal?"

"Not really," Bucky said honestly. 

"Here," the driver offered a hand to Steve.

Steve looked up, then whined and shrank against Bucky's shoulder. Bucky hushed him and cupped his elbow to support him better. 

"He's shy," Bucky said quickly.

"Sure," the cabbie answered, jogging right back down the steps, instead, opening the car door for them. "You got him?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, holding Steve up. "Down the steps, baby."

Steve looked at his feet to shuffle down the steps. Bucky let him take his time and they had to pause on the second landing as Steve regained his balance. Bucky wasn't sure how the poor thing got up to the second floor on his own in the first place.

“Here we go,” Bucky said, getting to the bottom step. “One more.”

Steve put his foot down, but must’ve put his weight on it wrong because he stumbled and grabbed onto Bucky’s shirt with both hands, then let out a gasp of pain.

“He okay?” the cabbie called.

“No, he’s not,” Bucky snapped back.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly, “I didn’t – didn’t –”  


“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky cut him off, wrapping around him again and cupping his cheek. “What happened, honey, your knee buckle or something?”

“Weak ankles,” Steve mumbled, his eyes dazed.

“What’s wrong?” the cabbie asked, moving closer.

“His ribs,” Bucky said, trying not to be short with the cabbie so Steve wouldn’t think he was mad at him. “What’s the matter, baby?” he added more softly, holding Steve’s head up. “What happened with your ankle?”

“Weak,” Steve repeated faintly. “I’m – I’m sorry, sir –”

“What’s the matter, kid?” the cabbie called, suddenly right next to them. “This guy hurt you?”

“What –” Bucky spluttered, “– dude, no –”

Steve looked at the cabbie with complete confusion. “What?” he said blankly.

“I’ll call the cops!” the cabbie added.

“Why?” Steve questioned again, turning now to look at the driver. 

“Whoa,” the cabbie said now, stumbling backwards. “You’re – You can’t be –!”

“What?” Steve just repeated. “Who are you?”

“He has a concussion,” Bucky said to the cabbie, “probably banged himself in the face with his shield. Do you mind?”

The cabbie blinked at them. Steve looked at Bucky.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Bucky cupped the back of his neck and held on tight. “To get your head looked at, honey.”

“Oh, shit,” the cabbie sighed.

“Dude,” Bucky said.

The cabbie shook himself. “Right,” he said, stepping back. “Uh. Sorry. I – Jesus.”

Bucky let his breath out, then wrapped Steve around him again. The cabbie held back this time, he didn’t seem to want to look at Steve at all of a sudden. Bucky finally got Steve to the car, touched the back of his head and held onto his hand as he folded into the car. Steve still hit his head.

“Ow!” he shouted. “Shit!”

“Careful, big guy,” the cabbie muttered.

Steve looked up, his eyes wide, and he looked so _hurt._

“I didn’t –” he mumbled, “I didn’t eat anything, sir, I swear –”

“Hey!” Bucky said, getting in quickly behind him. “Honey, that’s not what he meant, you’re just real tall, kiddo.”

Steve blinked at him. “I’m – I’m not tall,” he mumbled. “That’s not funny.”

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve and pulled him in. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay, little boy, Daddy’s got’chu.”

How fucking hard did Steve hit his head?

*

The lights went in and out. At first, he thought he saw sunlight, like he was waking up on a warm June morning, and it wasn’t just sunlight, he felt _warm._ He felt so warm, he felt like he was waking up on a warm June morning, there wasn’t a fever in his bones, and his ma was lying right behind him, holding onto him. 

But then the light wasn’t warm enough. It was so hot it felt cold. And then he was blinking up at a tiled ceiling, there was something on his face, and a pinch in his hand. He blinked again and saw the light was to his right and the cold was in his left hand.

“Hey.”

Steve turned his head. Bucky was sitting next to him, two pencils stuck through a sloppy bun at the top of his head.

“You’re in Brooklyn General,” Bucky told him. “It’s 2012, September twenty-fifth.”

Steve glanced around.

“Hey,” Bucky repeated, softer this time.

Steve turned his head back, blinking.

“Do you know who I am?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said, frowning; it hurt and he reached up with his right hand touch his forehead, he had a bandage.

“Can you –” Bucky started, then reached over and took Steve’s hand, pulling it away from his face. “Can you tell me who I am?”

“Daddy,” Steve said quietly. “Why –”

Bucky pulled his hand closed and kissed it. “Yeah,” he said, sounding relieved. “Yeah, baby.”

“Huh?” Steve mumbled. “Why wouldn’t – Why wouldn’t I know who you are?”

“You were really confused yesterday,” Bucky explained. “Like – Like, really confused, you forgot that you – you were tall, at one point.”

Steve blinked at him. “I didn’t… I didn’t hit my head that hard.”

Bucky shook his head. He reached over and touched Steve’s hair.

“You didn’t hit your head very hard yesterday,” Bucky said softly, “but you had an old injury that flared up.”

“Huh?” Steve repeated.

Bucky brushed Steve’s hair from his forehead. “You had an old injury that got aggravated by hitting your head yesterday, it just rattled your brain.”

“I couldn’t –” Steve mumbled. “That – That doesn’t make sense? I don’t have any old injuries – The serum –”

“It didn’t do anything to your brain, baby,” Bucky told him. “You don’t have any fractures or anything, but there’s a little bit of scar tissue left in your brain, still. Doctor says maybe you were pushed down some stairs or something.”

“Oh,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky picked Steve’s hand up again and kissed it. “And I’m gonna sue Sitwell,” he added. “For letting you leave like that. No CO should’a let one of their people walk out like that.”

“Okay,” Steve answered faintly. “Am – Am I okay? Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Bucky said, squeezing Steve’s hand. “No, sweetheart, you did just what a good boy does, you came straight home to Daddy.”

“Okay,” Steve repeated. “I – I feel tired, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Bucky said, brushing at his hair again. “You’re still comin’ out of heat, honey, your body’s not happy about everything you had to go through yesterday.”  


Steve nodded, leaning back into his pillow. What Bucky was saying made sense. He did hit his head, around Christmas in 1942. On the corner of a coffee table. He’d passed out after, Ronan thought he was dead so he left him there. He’d run away after that, Father Elliot had given him a room, and then he’d met Dr. Erskine. Maybe Bucky was right. His brain wasn’t something the serum ever altered.

“You can sleep, sweetheart, it’s fine,” Bucky said. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Steve nodded absently. He laced his fingers through Bucky’s, feeling safer with him there. It made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _up next, something's gotta be done about all this bullshit, for crying out loud, it stinks_


	15. Welcome to New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _guess what_

#  _ 15: Welcome to New York _

  
  


“Are you fucking kidding me,” Bucky hissed into his hand.

“I’m not sure why I’m even having this discussion with you,” Agent Sitwell said calmly. “You are wholly irrelevant to Captain Rogers’ work life, even less, I presume, to his personal life; your record states you are a 9-0? Captain Rogers would have a difficult time maintaining a friendship with a Dominant so similarly ranked to him.”

“Would you stop the bullshit!” Bucky snapped. “He’s still recovering from heat, he’s got a concussion, he has lingering brain trauma –”

“Please leave,” Sitwell said in a plain tone.

“No,” Bucky said, stepping in between Sitwell and Steve’s bed. “No, this is where I draw the line. I don’t  _ care _ what your stupid fucking agenda says about his designation or his rank, he’s got fucking  _ brain trauma _ and you want him to fly back to, what, what is it this time?”

“He’s needed for a training session,” Sitwell sighed. “It’s been on his agenda for months. He’s just speaking to some new members of the STRIKE team.”

“Why,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Why? Why can’t you let him have two minutes –”   


“It’s fine,” Steve snapped.

Bucky turned around. Steve was sitting up in bed, untaping the IV from his hand.

“It’s fine,” Steve repeated sharply, not even looking at Bucky. “It doesn’t matter. I just have to talk to them, right?”

“Just a chat,” Sitwell answered, smiling like the evil fucking puppet of a politician he was.

“Stevie,” Bucky sighed.

Steve pulled his IV out, shaking his head. “I can talk to them,” he said, his tone abnormally calm.

Bucky hesitated. There was a vein in Steve’s neck that was standing out, a tremor in his hands Bucky almost recognized. Steve’s scent was clear in the room, but there was no burnt sugar or bad vanilla. Bucky almost smelled – Just straight vodka. Something he was actually very familiar with. Straight vodka, and the bad shit, the kind that burned on the way down.

Steve got out of bed. “I assume a Dominant of my caliber normally doesn’t care,” he added in a steel tone, “but I would prefer you  _ leave _ the room so I can get dressed, Agent Sitwell.”

“Of course,” Agent Sitwell said, nodding. Then he looked at Bucky and smiled. “Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky crossed his arms, glaring.

“Oh, I wouldn’t care about a Dominant of  _ his _ caliber,” Steve snapped. “Get out.”

Sitwell’s face soured. Bucky strode forward and grabbed his shoulder, marching him out. He slammed the door, then leaned on it for a moment, let out his breath. He pushed off, turned and shuffled back into the room. Steve had dropped back onto his bed, holding his chest.

“Sweet pea,” Bucky murmured.

“I want to go,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky walked up to him and sat down next to him, carefully, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Steve leaned into him, but inhaled deeply.

“I want to talk,” Steve repeated softly.

Bucky kissed his hair. “Okay,” he said, because there was something in Steve’s voice that – that he didn’t like any more than Sitwell’s fucking bureaucratic smile.

“Can you help me get dressed?” Steve added, his voice much softer this time. “I – I think I still might be dizzy, Daddy. Can you help me?” 

“Yeah, of course, honey,” Bucky said gently. “That’s what daddies are for, right?”

Steve nodded. He stood up, holding his hands out for balance, and Bucky followed him quickly, putting a hand on his back and taking his outstretched hand.

“Do you think it matters if I wear jeans?” Steve asked in a flat tone.

“No,” Bucky said. “No, honey.”

*

They left Bucky at the hospital. Sitwell acted like it wouldn’t even be a question that Bucky would stay behind. Steve didn’t fight that. Sitwell also gave him four scent-blocking patches. Steve applied the three and wondered what the fuck he was supposed to do with the fourth. He went with him to Fort Hamilton, took the chopper up to the helicarrier. The new recruits for the STRIKE team were on the flight deck; dozens of young men and women, all of them looked no older than twenty. Not old enough to drink.

“You really should be wearing your uniform,” Pierce said, straightening his tie as he walked up to Steve and Sitwell. “Did Jasper not bring you your uniform?”

“I did –” Sitwell started.

“I couldn’t put it on,” Steve interrupted him, “my ribs are bruised.”

“Oh,” Pierce said, looking startled. “Still?”

Steve gave him a look. He’d never liked Pierce, but now, he felt real hatred for him.

“Still,” Steve answered bitterly. “You know, it tends to take more than 24 hours for six broken ribs to put themselves back together.”

Pierce looked even more startled. Steve walked past him.

“I have a script, don’t I?” he called, though he fully intended to rip it up. Take a leaf out of Tony’s book for once. 

“This way,” Sitwell said, moving quickly to follow him.

There was a podium. Pierce went up first, in his tailored suit and tie. Steve stood to the side, wearing his ratty blue jeans and a Sex Pistols T-shirt from Bucky. He actually felt a burst of pride that he was wearing his Alpha’s clothes, more so that they were so offensive. He was wearing sandals, even. He looked very out of place next to Secretary Pierce. His heart was pounding, and not just because the heat was making him feel dizzy and nauseous.

Pierce rattled on for a while. He welcomed the recruits and talked about what a difference they would make, and Steve stared out at them wondering how many of them would gasp once he said what he had to say.

“And now I’ll turn you over to one of the finest men our institution has ever turned out,” Pierce announced, “Captain America!”

There was applause. Pierce beamed as he stepped back and Steve took the stand. He waited for the applause to die. He took a breath, looking down at the script Pierce had left for him.

“Hi,” Steve started. “I, uh, I don’t have a lot of time to speak with you guys.”

Sitwell cleared his throat behind him. Steve glanced behind him, then let his breath out and touched the script. Bullshit about the things SHIELD was accomplishing with its people. With him.

“I’m very glad to be standing here talking to you today,” Steve continued, looking up. He cleared his throat, turning his gaze over the crowd. “There were a lotta odds stacked against it. It took a lot for my family to get to New York, for one thing. My mother didn’t buy a ticket for the boat, she stowed away.”

Sitwell cleared his throat again. Pierce gave Steve a nervous smile. Steve clenched his jaw, glancing down, then looked up again.

“I remember the boat rocking,” he said. “My ma was so amazed that I did, ‘cause I was only two when we came to New York.”

There was a ripple of surprise through the crowd. Pierce glanced over at Sitwell, then at Fury. Steve ignored them. He was just getting started.

“Everybody knows I was sick as a child,” Steve continued, glancing over that part of the script. “That’s old news. I have a concussion right now. I forgot that I had the serum for a while. Now, this morning I was told that this cut on my forehead –” he gestured to the bandage still there “– wasn’t enough to really jostle my brain, but about three months before I had the serum, I was thrown into a coffee table and they reckon that probably the serum didn’t really go deep into my brain. It flared up, they said.”

“Captain,” Sitwell murmured behind Steve.

“They’re gonna tell you that it’s the concussion talking,” Steve plowed on, raising his hands and ripping the patch off his wrist, “so I invite you to walk up to me any time, ‘cause I’m not wearing these anymore.”

He crumpled up the patches and threw them away, then even ripped off the one on his neck.

“There was a lot standing between me and the Army in 1941,” Steve said, “and I bet there was lots standing between you guys, too, I’m sure, but they didn’t really let Omegas into the Army until the eighties, and I only got in because Erskine refused to test his serum on any Alphas after what happened to Schmidt.”

“Captain Rogers,” Pierce started, already moving towards him.

“I agreed to pretend to be an Alpha!” Steve continued, jerking his arm out of Sitwell’s grip. “I agreed to pretend for the Army because they told me it wasn’t going to work and it would probably kill me, which was what I signed up for in the first place after my master threw me into that coffee table! I agreed to pretend because I thought it would end when the war ended, I could go home and be myself but I am still coming out of a fucking heat and I am standing here today with six goddamn broken ribs because this institution wants to do good with us!”

“That will be all!” Pierce shouted into the microphone as he shoved Steve out of the way.

“I am done pretending!” Steve shouted anyway. “I’m an illegal immigrant, a Submissive, and a fucking Omega! Captain America is a comic book character they used my face for and I am  _ sick _ of being him!”

“That will be all!” Pierce shouted, yanking Steve aside with the help of three other men.

“Captain Rogers seems to be suffering lingering effects of his concussion,” Agent Sitwell announced into the microphone. “He will not be available for questions, we’ll be taking him back to the medical ward at Brooklyn General, thank you.”

“Where he should’ve stayed,” Fury’s voice suddenly added.

Pierce stopped, and so did the other three men hauling Steve off, probably damaging his already broken ribs.

“Both this morning and a few months ago when Secretary Pierce here hauled him out after he was committed to the Heat Ward there,” Fury continued. “Damn fine professionals at Brooklyn General, they tried hard to keep Captain Rogers then, with good reason, considering the first thing Secretary Pierce did was put him under armed guard by about a dozen Alphas.”

“Nick,” Pierce started.

“Watch me lose my job,” Fury continued. “I had to dig through  _ piles _ of old junk from the forties to find Captain Rogers’ original paperwork, but I found that agreement he signed – That you signed, Rogers?” Fury said, now turning to Steve and pointing at him. “Only for your military career, said nothing about personal life, and definitely nothing about dragging you out of your home or a hospital.”

“I definitely never agreed to pretend to be a Dominant,” Steve said.

“No, you didn’t,” Fury agreed, glanced at the crowd and added, “he just said he didn’t agree to pretend to be a Dominant, which SHIELD has shoved down his throat lately – Didn’t just this morning, Agent Sitwell, you told Captain Rogers’ partner that it was unlikely for them to even be friends if their dominant charts matched?”

Sitwell looked at Pierce. Pierce waved at more of his men. Rumlow walked up and grabbed Steve’s shoulder, tugging him away from the podium and the microphone where he could just do more damage. He yanked hard on him and Steve’s ribs flared up in pain; he hissed and jerked back, but Rumlow grabbed his arm.

“What’s the matter?” he spat. “Worried you’ll drop to your knees if I hit you too hard, Cap?”

Steve had had enough. He planted his feet and drove his elbow into Rumlow’s face, heard a satisfying crunch, and took several steps back. Rumlow, groaning, stumbled and fell to one knee.

“What’s the matter?” Steve spat back at him. “Did I hit you too hard?”

Natasha was suddenly there, taking his arm. He winced and covered his ribs, letting Natasha take some of his weight. 

“When it’s a little quieter, I got your Alpha on the phone,” Natasha said over the noise. “That was some stunt you pulled, by the way, I’m proud of you.”

Steve grinned. “My ma’d be proud of me,” he said. “Always said she hated America, one day we’d go back to Ireland.”

“Well, you just told national television that you’re an illegal immigrant,” Natasha replied. 

Steve stopped her. “What?”

“National television,” Natasha repeated, then grinned. “You didn’t – You didn’t realize you weren’t just talking to the recruits?”

“No,” Steve exhaled. “ _ No! _ ”

“Oh, kid,” Natasha laughed. “You just told the whole of fucking  _ America _ that you’re an illegal immigrant. You play your cards right, might get deported.”

Steve blinked for a second, then he grinned, too.

“No,” he drawled, “I’m too white.”

Natasha stopped for a second, looking up at him, then she laughed again and started them walking again. “You might be right,” she agreed.

*

Bucky saw Natasha’s car pull up and jumped off the couch. He ran down the stairs, opening the front door as Natasha helped Steve onto the first landing.

Bucky ran down the steps and stopped himself at the last second from grabbing Steve in a hug. Instead, he touched his face. Steve shut his eyes, then Natasha let go and Steve walked right into Bucky’s arms, leaning on him with a little smile.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured softly. “Hey, kiddo.”

“No more lying,” Steve mumbled. “I threw up in Natasha’s car.”

“Shit,” Bucky laughed, looking at her now.

Natasha just grimaced and nodded.

“Okay,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s arms, “then let’s get you upstairs, sweet pea. I got’chu –”

“Chicken noodle soup?” Steve guessed, grinning.

“How’d you guess?” Bucky joked, drawing Steve’s arm over his shoulders.

“Jewish penicillin,” Steve said with that wide, honest grin. “Can I have, um, some other medicine after my soup?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Uh, like what?”   


Steve actually blushed. He glanced back towards Natasha, then giggled a little bit, and leaned in very close. “Bucky penicillin,” he whispered.

Bucky stifled a snort. “Uh,” he repeated, “yannow, I really think you’re gonna have to elaborate on that, honey. After your soup.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Steve answered, dropping his head onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“I heard that,” Natasha hissed in their direction. “I’m billing you for cleaning up the sick.”   
  


Bucky waved at her as he helped Steve inside. Natasha strode off, tapping her keys and making her car beep as she walked away. Bucky pulled the front door shut behind them, then locked it for good measure. He’d seen a few cases where interrupted heats restarted themselves. He could never be too careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _he fucking went there_


	16. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _up next, soft and sweet emotional smut, ya welcs_

#  _16: Home_

  


When Steve woke up, his head hurt a little, but he was warm and Bucky was wrapped around him. They were on the sofa, not the bed, and one of Steve’s legs was hanging off the edge while Bucky’s knee was wrapped around his hip. The TV was playing, it was quiet and for a moment, Steve was sure he couldn’t hear it because his left ear, his good ear, was pressed into Bucky’s arm. Then the hum of the TV cut off completely and Bucky touched Steve's front just by his sternum and Steve was reminded of his body. 

“You wakin’ up, little boy?” Bucky murmured.

Steve hummed. Bucky kissed the back of his head, then brought a hand up to brush down his throat. Steve hummed again and turned his head just enough to let his throat be bare. Bucky wrapped a hand around it. When he did, Steve felt the collar around his throat. 

“You wanna see what you did, sweetie?” Bucky offered.

Steve shook his head, too content to open his eyes.

“You wanna hear?”

Steve thought about it, shrugged, then nodded. Bucky let go of this throat, leaned to the side, and then the volume on the TV increased.

_“… calling for Secretary Pierce to resign from his position, but it isn’t yet clear if he will step down willingly or if the Council will force him to retire. Some are saying that it’s not enough for him to retire; one wealthy man stepping down to retire in comfort cannot reconcile_ _the past year of humiliation and stress for Captain Rogers."_

Steve opened his eyes then and for a moment, stared blankly at the TV. The woman reading the report was expressionless, like perhaps she didn’t really care.

_“No one can speak for what Captain Rogers was put through before his emergence into our time in October of last year,”_ the woman was saying, _“and perhaps our new questions will be answered once he decides to reach out to the media. For now –”_

The woman’s picture was replaced by a new image, a suddenly shaky video of a row of houses, a motorcycle and a sleek black sports car parked outside. The frame was centered on a set of steps going up; it zoomed in and, blinking, Steve recognized Natasha passing him over to Bucky.

_“– it appears that Rogers has found a new home,”_ the anchorwoman continued as, in the video, Bucky pulled Steve into his arms. _“Hopefully without the interference of SHIELD, he and his partner will be able to lead a relatively normal life.”_

“Shit,” Bucky mumbled. “I guess they know where we live, then.”

“Don’t go outside,” Steve decided easily. “Get takeout through the window.”

Bucky laughed softly. “I haven’t seen anybody camped outside,” he said. “Maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

“Hmph,” Steve muttered, closing his eyes again. “Don’ care. Not going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” Bucky answered, his voice soft; he tucked his nose against the top of Steve’s head and cradled him a bit closer. “Why’s that, sweet pea?”  


Steve reached up and gripped Bucky’s wrist, keeping his hand wrapped around his throat. “Like where I am,” he said quietly. “Safe. Good.”

Bucky chuckled and kissed the back of his head again. Steve turned his head and nuzzled against Bucky’s arm, dropping a kiss on it. 

“Glad you don’t plan on going anywhere,” Bucky said. “I love you, little boy.”

Steve smiled, letting his head fall back against Bucky’s shoulder to expose his throat. “Love you, too, Daddy.”

Bucky lifted up a little and pressed a kiss to Steve’s throat, then nuzzled him. “I seem to remember a sweet little boy asking his daddy for a special kinda medicine earlier this afternoon,” he murmured. “You know anythin’ about that, honey?”

Steve thought back to getting home, eating the chicken soup, but not any medicine. He shook his head. Bucky smiled down at him, then shook his head and chuckled before kissing Steve’s forehead.

“Well, I gave you your Jewish penicillin,” Bucky murmured, “and you asked for some Bucky penicillin.”

Steve blinked at him. Bucky sniggered. Steve felt his face flame and he covered his mouth with a hand. Bucky continued to snigger at him.

“Do you still need a dose of Bucky penicillin?” he chuckled.

Steve let out an embarrassed squeak and turned to hide his face against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky laughed properly and pressed a loud kiss to Steve’s forehead, then scooped him up and pulled his hand from his face.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he said, “it’s cute.”

“Bucky penicillin,” Steve bemoaned. “You can’t use that against me, I had a concussion!”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled, pressing another kiss to Steve’s forehead, “whatever you say.”

Steve hid his face in Bucky’s shoulder, turning completely onto his side. Bucky moved again and the TV went silent, then Bucky rolled them over, settling on top of him and pinning him down to the sofa cushions. Steve tilted his head back, baring his throat, and Bucky trailed kisses down his neck to his collarbone. Bucky pressed his lips over Steve’s scent gland, then nosed at his neck with gentle movements.

“Daddy loves you, sweet little boy,” Bucky murmured. “You’re very good to me.”

“I want to stay here forever,” Steve admitted, blinking his eyes open to Bucky. “Just lie here, stay under you. I feel safe here.”

Bucky kissed his scent gland again, then nuzzled up his neck and pressed their lips together. “I want to keep you here forever,” he admitted.

“Is it bad if I don’t want to go back?” Steve asked. 

“To SHIELD?” Bucky replied.

Steve shrugged a little. “At all,” he mumbled, feeling guilt and shame rising in him. “To being Captain America.”

“No,” Bucky murmured, brushing Steve’s cheek with a gentle hand. “No, honey. You’ve been in the war a long time. It’s okay if you wanna stay home now.”

Steve let out his breath, not sure of himself, but reached up and pushed his hands through Bucky’s hair. He pulled him into a kiss, quickly letting Bucky take control. Bucky grabbed his hands and pushed them up, folded Steve’s arms above his head and pinned them in place. They kissed for a long time; Bucky’s weight on top of him, the scent of his growing arousal, and his hands being held in place struck heat low in Steve's belly. 

Bucky let Steve gasp for air and started kissing down his neck again. Steve pushed his neck out, arching his back to press his hips against Bucky’s, and Bucky tugged at the neckline of his shirt, pulling it down. Steve let out a soft moan.

“Daddy wants to undress you, sweet boy,” Bucky said softly. “Does that sound nice, baby?”

Steve nodded quickly. Bucky grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanked it up, and Steve picked his upper torso so Bucky could pull it off over his head. He dropped back down, shivering, and Bucky immediately closed his mouth over Steve’s right nipple. Steve cried out, whining as Bucky sucked on it and nibbled at him.

“You need a lil’ somethin’ from Daddy, baby boy?” Bucky murmured. “Are you needy, sweetheart, do you need Daddy?”

Steve just nodded quickly. Bucky put his hands on Steve’s chest, cupping his pecs, and kissed his other nipple, then kissed down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats. Bucky tugged and Steve lifted his hips so Bucky could tug his pants and underwear off. Bucky wrapped his hand around Steve’s cock and pumped it lightly, grabbing under his right leg with his other hand and throwing it over his shoulder. 

“Daddy,” Steve whispered, clenching his fists.

“Shh,” Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss to Steve’s hip. “Daddy’s gonna taste you, sweet boy.”

Bucky kissed inside Steve’s hip, into his thighs, then pressed his lips against Steve’s ballsack. Steve tossed his other leg off the sofa and clenched his hole, feeling cold from the air on his skin. Bucky nuzzled his taint, then pressed his tongue against his hole.

Steve whined, curling his toes. Bucky licked a stripe over his hole, then pressed the tip against him and wiggled it against his rim.

“Daddy!” Steve whined, louder this time.

“Shh,” Bucky repeated, kissing Steve’s hole, “Daddy’s here, sweet boy, Daddy’s taking care of you.”

Bucky got his tongue fully into Steve’s hole, then added his fingers, and eventually made Steve come like that. Blissed out, Steve grabbed weakly at Bucky’s hair until he climbed over him again and kissed him, his mouth tasting like Steve’s slick; syrupy and sweet. Steve wrapped a leg around him, then both, and grabbed onto Bucky’s shirt with both fists. He tugged on it, but Bucky didn’t seem to understand, because he stayed put, still kissing Steve. After a second, Steve got frustrated. He gathered fabric in his fists and set his arms, then pulled.

Bucky’s shirt ripped down the back. Bucky jerked back, his eyes wide, and Steve gave him a cheeky grin.

“You little shit,” Bucky said, then dove back in and started biting down Steve’s neck.

Steve just laughed and helped Bucky out of the torn shirt. Satisfied, he let his hands splay over Bucky’s bare back, then dug his nails in and dragged down.

“Shit,” Bucky laughed against his neck, “you’re real needy today, huh, baby?”

Steve nodded, rolling his hips up against Bucky’s. Bucky bit at his ear, yanking briefly, then switched to kissing him on the lips again. Steve whined under him, grinding their hips together again. He scratched at Bucky’s back again and Bucky finally pressed his hips down into Steve’s.

“You need somethin’, baby?” Bucky rumbled. “C’mon, tell Daddy what you need.”

Steve opened his mouth, panting. Bucky brushed their lips together, their noses touching.

“Go on, sweet thing,” he murmured. “Tell Daddy what you need.”

“Fuck me,” Steve mumbled.

“That what you want?” Bucky answered, cupping the side of Steve’s face. “You want Daddy’s dick in you, honey?”

Steve nodded quickly, pushing up against Bucky. Bucky grabbed Steve’s throat, pressing his thumb against his pulse, and ducked down to lick and suck at his nipples again. Bucky reached down with his other hand, between his legs again, and slid two fingers into him.

“Have to get a condom,” Bucky said, lips dragging on Steve’s skin.

“No,” Steve whined immediately.

Bucky lifted his head and nuzzled at Steve’s neck, then touched their noses and foreheads together; his fingers were still inside Steve, two more massaging at his rim. Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s upper lip, then to his cheek, then nuzzled their noses together softly.

“You don’t want me to wear a rubber, honey?” he asked softly. “Why not?”

Steve shook his head. Bucky put another finger in him and kissed his jaw.

“Why not, baby?” he repeated. “What’s the matter with it?”

“Want to feel you,” Steve said, catching Bucky’s hair, then cupping his face. “It’s you. I know you. I love you. I wanna feel it.”

“Sweet pea,” Bucky murmured, smiling at him now; he brushed their noses together again and kissed Steve’s cheek, just by his nose. “I’d love to fuck you raw, baby, but you know there’s risks.”

“No,” Steve insisted, pulled Bucky into a kiss and squeezed his legs around him. “Can’t get pregnant, serum heals too quick. Can’t get sick, can’t give you nothin’, can't get nothin'. I wanna feel you.”

Bucky lifted his eyebrows, then smiled and pressed their lips together again. “You sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Steve promised. “Please, Daddy?”

“Okay, baby,” Bucky said, pecking Steve’s lips again, “alright, baby boy. No condom.”

They kissed again. Steve, trembling, reached between them and undid the tie on Bucky's sweatpants, then shoved them down. Bucky planted a hand on the arm of the couch and raised himself up onto his knees, shoving his sweats and underwear off at the same time. He got them down to his knees, then seemed to get impatient; he dropped down to kiss Steve again, his knees trapped by his clothes, and he dragged his cock against Steve's hip.

"I ain't got much patience, babydoll," Bucky murmured against Steve's lips. "You feel relaxed, honey? Can Daddy put it in you?"

Steve nodded quickly, lifting his right leg again onto the back of the couch. Bucky kissed down Steve's neck, wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked hard for a moment, then kissed down the plane of his stomach while he pressed two fingers back into his body. Steve whined and Bucky added another finger easily. 

"You feel good, baby?" Bucky asked him. "You'll tell Daddy if it don’t feel good, right?"

Steve nodded, swallowing. Bucky kissed his stomach again, then twisted his fingers inside him for a second, and pulled them out to wrap them around his dick. Steve struggled to control his breathing as he watched the head of Bucky's cock sink into his fist, then disappear again as Bucky brought his hand back up.

"Daddy, c'mon," Steve begged. 

"Just making sure it won't hurt," Bucky told him, slowly dragging his fist still.

"You're wet, c'mon," Steve whined. "Daddy, please?"

Bucky laughed softly and leaned up to press their lips together. Steve grabbed at his waist, then wrapped his left leg around Bucky's torso and tugged him in. Bucky grabbed Steve's hip, then his waist, and Steve felt his cockhead dragging along the cleft of his ass. He hiccuped, his breath shaking, Bucky kissed the corner of his mouth and his tip fell against Steve's rim. Steve consciously relaxed and Bucky's cock started to sink into him. 

"Fuck," Bucky whispered, pressing his forehead into Steve's as he let out a painting breath. "Fuck, honey, you feel so fucking good."

Steve grabbed at Bucky's back, digging his nails in as he whined desperately. 

"Shh, shh," Bucky murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Steve's cheek. "Daddy's gotta go slow, baby, don't wanna hurt you."

Steve nodded, panting and mindless; he pushed back onto Bucky's cockhead and tightened his leg around Bucky's back, but Bucky just eased his cock back until the tip was just pressed against him. Steve whined again and dragged his nails on Bucky's back.

"Daddy's gotta go slow," Bucky repeated, then laughed softly. "You feel too good, baby, I don't wanna finish too fast."

Steve just whined and tugged Bucky into another kiss. Their teeth bumped and Steve gasped. Bucky shushed him and kissed his upper lip before nuzzling their noses together as he pressed his cockhead back into Steve's hole; just barely, not even the whole head, and Steve was gasping for it.

"You got me so hot, yannow?" Bucky murmured. "Your sweet body opening so nicely for me, you're so wet for me, baby boy, you got my knot aching."

"Yeah?" Steve exhaled, leaning his head back.

Bucky went for his neck immediately, humming a soft answer. Steve pushed his hips out and relaxed more for Bucky. Bucky slid in a little more and the head popped in; Steve gasped while he groaned, then Bucky grabbed his chest with a hand and started twisting his nipple with his thumb and forefinger almost absentmindedly. Steve rocker back on his cock, breathing heavy, and Bucky let his hips roll gently, sloshing the tide on Steve's spinning head.

"You feel so damn good, little boy," Bucky said, his voice rough and almost dropping into a growl. "Is it okay for me to knot you, baby? Will that feel good for you?"

Steve just nodded. Bucky reached up and grabbed his jaw, bringing his head back to force Steve to look at him.

"I need to hear you say it," Bucky told him firmly. "Need to hear you really need it, sweetheart."

"I want it," Steve answered quietly; he swallowed, his mouth going dry, and nodded again. "I need it."

"You want me to knot you?" Bucky asked again. 

"Yeah," Steve said quickly. "Yes, Daddy, I want you to knot me."

Bucky kissed him quickly, hard, then nuzzled their noses together again. "Good boy," he rumbled, "Daddy's proud of you, sweetie, you're such a good boy for me, babydoll."

Steve inhaled a ragged breath. Bucky kissed his cheek, then down his jaw, and his cock rolled another inch deeper into Steve's body. 

"How does it feel?" Bucky asked softly. "You feel good still, sweet thing?"

"Uh-huh," Steve mumbled, sliding his hands over Bucky's back. "Want more, Daddy."

Bucky chuckled and kissed the corner of his mouth, then let his hips roll gently and his cock sank in a little more. Steve could feel it deep in him, he felt unfamiliar with the sensation even though Bucky wasn't the biggest he had ever taken; it had just been a long time. Peggy used to give him fingers, or on fortunate occasions, a candlestick or something similar, but that had been the most Steve had taken since leaving Ronan. He took a trembling breath and Bucky pressed a soothing kiss to his forehead, sliding his cock back. 

"We're takin' it slow, sweet boy," he said softly, "we go at your pace. You okay, honey?"

Steve nodded. Bucky pressed their lips together gently and wrapped his palm over Steve's throat. 

"You breathe for me, sweetie," Bucky said in a gentle command. "In and out. In and out."

Steve nodded again, bringing air into his lungs slowly under Bucky's palm. He swallowed saliva and let his breath out again, the air shuddering as he controlled his breathing. Bucky kissed his jaw and nuzzled him gently.

"Good boy," he murmured, "Daddy's so proud of you, sweet boy, you're doin' so good."

Steve nodded shakily. "Okay," he whispered, "you can move."

Bucky kissed the edge of his jaw again, murmuring, "Good boy, honey," as he rolled his hips again and moved another inch or two into Steve.

The stretch felt overwhelming, but in a good way. The slow breach of Bucky's cock into his body made Steve feel almost dizzy, definitely hazy and a little bit drunk. It felt good, even though it felt like too much. It felt right.

Bucky let Steve set the pace. He sank in an inch and pulled back as Steve caught his breath. It took maybe 10 minutes, maybe 15, until Bucky's hips pressed against Steve with his cock fully sheathed inside him. Steve was still breathing had and Bucky nuzzled at his neck, leaving sweet kisses on his skin.

"Daddy's so proud of you, baby boy," he said in a low voice just as sweet. "How do you feel, huh? Does it feel good?"

Steve could only nod. Bucky brushed his fingertips down his throat and cupped his pec to fondle it again.

"God, you're so pretty, sweet boy," he said roughly. "And you feel so damn good on Daddy's dick, so wet and tight for me, baby. You know Daddy loves you, honey? You know how special you are to me?"

Steve nodded and brought his hands back to cup Bucky's face. Bucky hovered over him, braced on his elbow by his head, and let their noses touch, the air mingle between them. 

“There you go,” Bucky said softly, “there’s my sweet little boy. Look at Daddy, baby.”

Steve fixed his gaze on Bucky’s, nodding again. Bucky shifted his elbow, bringing him a little higher, then touched his hand to Steve’s throat again.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Steve looked at him. Bucky braced his elbow against the arm of the couch and moved slowly. Steve’s breath hitched. Bucky nodded slowly back at him, maintaining eye contact.

“There you go, sweetie,” Bucky said softly. “You feel that?”

His cock dragged slowly out of Steve, then back in. Steve dropped his head back with a groan, his eyes falling shut.

“Look at me, honey,” Bucky repeated. “Look at Daddy.”

Steve opened his eyes, blinking. Bucky sank his cock back in, resting his balls against Steve’s ass, then drug it back out.

“You feel that, honey?” he said. “That’s yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Steve sucked in a breath, blinked. Bucky sank into him, pulled back, and sank into him again. He went slow. He was gentle. He was sweet.

“It’s all for you,” Bucky said, a whisper between them. “It’s ‘cause’a you, it’s ‘cause of your pretty lips, your pretty face, that sweet little hole of yours. It’s all for you.”

“Daddy,” Steve mumbled. “I – I – I –”

“That’s right, baby,” Bucky answered, “that’s right, say who I am, tell me who I am.”

“Daddy,” Steve repeated.

“Good boy,” Bucky said, and he punched his hips into Steve a little faster, a little harder. “Good boy, sweetheart, call me.”

“Daddy,” Steve said again, louder.

Bucky braced himself and started to really fuck into him. Steve gasped, threw his head back, but maintained eye contact.

“Daddy!” he said again. “Fuck, Daddy!”

“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, his voice dropping into a growl. “I’m all yours, you’re all mine. Nobody’s gonna touch my baby, never again. Gonna keep you safe, keep you right here, right where you belong.”

“Fuck!” Steve gasped, dragging his nails into Bucky’s shoulders now. “Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck, Daddy!”

“That’s right, baby,” Bucky growled, did truly growl, “your daddy’s gonna take good care of you, sweetheart, my baby, all mine –”  


Steve threw his head back, shouting as his eyes rolled in his head, he dug his nails in and his toes curled. 

“Look at me, baby!” Bucky growled. “Eyes!”

Steve snapped his eyes open and looked and arched up. He met Bucky’s gaze, Bucky ground his swollen knot into Steve’s spot, and Steve’s eyes rolled right back as he came.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmured, “fuck, you’re damn good, my sweet babydoll, fuck –”

Steve felt, first, incredibly warm inside. Then, as Bucky groaned, he felt pressure at his rim, expanding and filling. Steve shuddered, gasped, and Bucky pressed his lips against his forehead, against his cheek, along his jaw.

“Daddy’s here, sweet thing,” Bucky said in his ear, “just breathe. Breathe for me, baby, be good.”

Steve sucked in a breath. Bucky kissed the corner of his mouth, then bumped their noses together.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I love you so much, honey. Daddy loves you.”

Steve inhaled again, then smiled and nodded. 

“That’s my sweet boy,” Bucky said, breaking into a smile, too. “You feel good, honey? Does it feel good?”

Steve nodded again, grinning now. Bucky kissed the corner of his smile, then his full lips. 

“We’re gonna lie here awhile,” Bucky murmured against his mouth. “Then when we get up, baby, we’re gonna have somethin’ t’a eat, then a bath, then we’re gonna lie back down and I’m gonna hold my little boy, just like I am now. Does that sound nice, honey?”  


Steve nodded again slowly. Bucky pressed another slow, sweet kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” Bucky said. “My sweet boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ahead of us is the end, thank you so much for joining me on this journey, you have no idea how much it means to me. thank you again to raynanki, who was my cheerleader in addition to being an amazing artist, I probably wouldn't have gotten this done on time without you. see y'all in the last part_


	17. Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this is it!_

#  _ 17: Happily Ever After _

  
  


Steve’s phone was ringing. Bucky reached over and picked it up before it woke Steve up. Some unknown number, like all the others. He sighed and checked the time, then glanced at Steve. He was fast asleep, curled up on Bucky’s shoulder with his thumb tucked in his mouth. Bucky brushed at his hair with a hand, then glanced at the phone again. He swiped and answered it.

“Barnes speaking,” he murmured.

_ “Hi,” _ a weathered, feminine voice replied.  _ “I was trying to reach Steven Rogers? I got this number from Mr. Stark?” _

Bucky frowned up at the ceiling. “Stark?” he repeated. “Why –”

_ “I’m calling from the Department of Dominance and Submissive Testing.” _

Bucky glanced down at Steve.

_ “My name is Candace Markussen. I’m calling because the standard tests for Dominance and Submissiveness didn’t become – well, standard until the late seventies. So, well, I guessed Captain Rogers never got tested?” _

Bucky looked down at Steve again, at his thumb tucked in his mouth. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he agreed. “But, uh, he’s asleep right now. I work nights, so we sleep during the day.”

_ “Oh – Sure, yeah. Should I call back?” _

“I’ll call back,” Bucky said. “Thank you, we appreciate it.”

_ “Sure. I hope you can talk him into taking the test, I know it can be daunting, but it really can be very enlightening.” _

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky answered. “Thank you.”

_ “Sure. Have a good night.” _

Bucky hung up, then put the phone down. He looked back down at Steve, then touched his chin with a hand. He leaned in and kissed Steve’s forehead, then linked his hands over his shoulder, just holding him. He’d bring it up in the morning. 

*

His phone was ringing. Steve, feeling ridiculous, stuck his head under the pillow. Bucky wasn’t home yet, it wasn’t Bucky’s ringtone, and Steve got tired of declining over and over when it wasn’t Bucky. He would turn it off, but he didn’t feel right leaving it off when Bucky was gone; if something went wrong, and the phone was off – Steve left the phone on, the ringtone on, and he stuck his head under the pillow when it rang and it wasn’t Bucky.

It had been three weeks since he’d told the truth. Peggy had called, he’d answered that, she said she was proud of him. Tony – Steve had started calling him Tony, figuring it was only polite – had given him an official job as a “consultant” for the Avengers, but really all he did was take phone calls from them and give them advice. (Currently, he was advising Clint on how to approach Natasha on being her new little spoon.) He wasn’t Captain America anymore. Steve gave himself his own call-sign this time. He was Nomad. Like he and his mother had been before they came to New York. Like he wasn’t now.

The phone stopped ringing. Steve tossed the pillow off his head, pushing up onto his elbows, then picked it up and checked it. The number was flagged by his cell carrier as a potential scam. Steve blocked it and put the phone back down, then turned onto his side and tucked the pillow under his head, not over. He grabbed another one and hugged it to his chest, put his pacifier into his mouth, and shut his eyes, content to snooze until the phone rang again or Bucky got home. He liked the pacifier; it made him feel sleepy and easy all the time, firmly in the  _ purring _ category of subby. Bucky had just bought it for him last week. Steve had lots of new things; his paci, which was blue and had a ribbon with a clip that attached his clothes, clothes that were meant for a little boy his age, as Bucky put it, coloring books and lots and lots of sketchpads. He’d gone back to drawing. Bucky said he was proud of him for it. Steve was proud of himself. It had been a while.

Bucky still worked a lot, but not nearly as much as before and Steve knew he liked it, he liked helping people. He really did help people, not just the way Captain America was supposed to help people. Steve was still working out how he was going to undo all the years of politics and prejudice that had been said and done with his face. Bucky told him it was okay just to want to rest, Clint said it was perfectly natural for a man of Steve’s age to want to retire, and Steve thought his ma would’ve said he could just go back home and that’d be the end of it.

He was really thinking about it. He’d gotten to see Ireland once during the war. It had been dark and grim; Steve supposed now it wouldn’t be so much. Brooklyn was his home for a long time, but the city was starting to keep him up at night. He was still thinking about it.

*

Steve propped his chin on his hand and stared straight ahead. Bucky mimicked him, but stared at him instead. Steve glanced out of the corner of his eye, blushed, and looked ahead again. Bucky smiled, lifted his chin from his palm and instead reached out to pinch Steve’s cheek gently.

“S. Rogers?” a woman called.

Steve jumped to his feet and straightened his jacket. Bucky got up quickly and took Steve’s hand, squeezing it. Steve gave him a glance, a soft smile, then looked ahead and approached the clerk.

“C’mon back,” the woman said, smiling at them. “My name’s Maisy, I do the questionnaire. How are you feeling, Mr. Rogers?”

“Good,” Steve told her.

Bucky squeezed his hand again, giving him a soft smile.

“A little nervous,” Steve added, looking at the ground.

Maisy opened a door and held it for them. “Don’t be,” she said, “everybody gets nervous for these things. Go have a seat.”

Bucky let Steve’s hand go. Steve stepped forward, then stopped, looking back.

“I’ll just be outside,” Bucky said quickly. “You’ll do fine, honey.”

Steve glanced at Maisy.

“He can’t sit with us, hun,” she said in a gentle tone. “I know you want him to, but we don’t want him altering the results of your test, right?”

“No,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky stepped in, cupped Steve’s waist, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done,” he promised. “Love you, Stevie.”

Steve nodded, his eyes on the ground again. Bucky kissed his cheek one more time, then stepped out of Maisy’s way, into the hallway where he sat down just outside the door. Maisy shut the door, it latched, and Bucky was left with the hum of white noise machines.

The test would take at least an hour, if Bucky remembered right. There would be all kinds of uncomfortable questions; uncomfortable, at least, for him. Steve would be shaken afterwards, he expected, probably would get overstimulated easily; that happened for him, and often. Now that he wasn’t hiding everything behind his cowl, Steve proved to be no less human than anybody else. Stress led to sensory overload. He would hate the lightbulbs and the sounds and everybody looking at him. Bucky had earplugs and a blindfold ready for him in the pocket of his jacket and Becca was waiting outside for them, to drive them back home. 

The white noise machines drowned everything out. The ventilation sucked the pheromones from the air and put out neutral, clean laundry scents. Bucky still picked up sour vanilla about ten minutes in. He clenched his fists on his legs, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not burst into the room to answer that upset scent. Later, he could swear he could smell vodka, but it faded after a while.

Bucky kept checking his watch, time passed no slower. It actually took two hours. Maybe he’d forgotten, maybe Steve’s took longer. The door finally opened and Bucky jumped up and Maisy smiled at him, then inclined her head.

Bucky rushed inside. Steve jerked his head up, smiled tightly, and jerked his gaze back down to the tabletop. He was very stiff in his seat, but he didn’t smell like vodka or bad vanilla or burnt sugar or anything really. Bucky pulled out the chair next to his and sat down, wrapping his arms around him immediately. Steve leaned into him, letting out his breath.

“I’m gonna go process your answers, Steve,” Maisy spoke up, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You guys catch your breath.”

“Thank you,” Bucky told her, giving her a nod and a smile.

She nodded back and shut the door behind her. Steve turned and put his face in Bucky’s neck.

“Did they ask you about your grandpa?” he said suddenly.

Bucky hesitated, then kissed the top of Steve’s head. “Not specifically. They ask everybody if they’ve ever been abused, of any kind. It’s the law.”

Steve gave a rough nod. “That – That makes me feel better,” he mumbled.

“Did she ask a lot about that?” Bucky prompted.

Steve shook his head. “Um, she asked for events. I said I couldn’t remember a lot and she kinda let it go after I gave her a few details.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured. “I said I remembered a few times, gave some vague dates, and they let it go, too. I had to say my grandpa was already dead, though, ‘cause she said she had to report it.”

“‘M pretty sure Ronan’s dead,” Steve said quietly, tiredly. “He was older than me. Be over a hun’nerd by now.”

“Probably,” Bucky agreed.

He kissed Steve’s hair, then nuzzled him. Steve squeezed him for a moment, then relaxed and nuzzled his neck in return. Bucky rested his cheek against the top of Steve’s head.

“Could probably have Natasha confirm it for us,” he said. “If you wanted to – to be sure.”

Steve shrugged. Bucky rubbed his back, shutting his eyes.

“What else did she ask?” he prompted. “Something that made you blush, kiddo.”

“Uh,” Steve started, then laughed softly. “We, uh, we talked about oral fixations. A lot.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky answered, smiling as he looked down at Steve. “Does my little boy have an oral fixation?”

Steve nodded quickly, hiding his face properly now. Bucky kissed his hair.

“That’s alright,” he said, “I kinda already knew that. Daddies are smart like that.”

“Don’ think ya needed t’a be smart t’a figure it out,” Steve muttered.

Bucky gave a snort. “What else?”

“Uh,” Steve mumbled. “How I feel when – When I feel small? Young?”

“Yeah?” Bucky said. “What’d you say?”

“Said I feel small,” Steve answered. “And I like it. I feel safe like that.”

“‘S ‘cause you got such a nice daddy,” Bucky told him.

Steve snorted, too. He rubbed his face against Bucky’s neck and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“And that we nap with you in me a lot,” he said quietly. “I really like that.”

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed. “Know you do, baby, tha’s why we do it.”

“Stuff like that,” Steve added.

Bucky kissed Steve’s hair. “And how do you feel right now, sweet pea?”

Steve was quiet a second, then he hugged Bucky tightly. “I feel fine,” he promised. “I’m okay. I got a real nice daddy.”   


Bucky squeezed Steve back. “Damn right you do,” he said softly. “You got me ‘til the end’a the line, baby.”

Steve giggled. “That’s so fucking cheesy.”

“But it’s true,” Bucky said. “I’m a goner for you, honey, a real sucker.”

Steve snorted. “You’re fucking cheesy.”   


“I love you!” Bucky said in a sing-song voice, rocking Steve back and forth. “I love my little baby boy, my sweet golden summer child, I love you, very much.”

“Love you, too,” Steve laughed. “Quit bein’ cheesy or I’ll shove you off your chair.”   


“Oh, sure,” Bucky chuckled, kissing Steve’s hair. “I’ll stop. But I do love you.”

Steve squeezed him again for a second. “I know,” he promised.

Maisy returned another five minutes later. She knocked, Bucky said, “Come in,” and then she opened the door.

“All done,” she said, walking up to the chair on the other side of the table. “Are you ready, Steve?”

Steve peeked out from Bucky’s arms. He shrugged.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Bucky asked him softly, lips brushing his hair. “We can wait to read the results, it’s no trouble.”

Steve shook his head, then nodded. “Now,” he mumbled.

Bucky looked up and nodded. Maisy opened her folder and took out a single sheet of paper.

“Do you know how rankings work?” Maisy asked.

Steve shook his head.

“There’s two charts,” Maisy said, holding up two fingers for him. “They go from zero to nine on each. The first one –” she dropped a finger, “– is the Dominance rank, and the second is Submissiveness. Low scores mean low preference, so a zero is neutral. High numbers mean a strong preference, so a nine is, bingo, that’s the only preference. Make sense?”

Steve blinked for a second, then nodded.

“You ready to hear yours?” Maisy asked again.

Steve shifted so he was facing her some, but stayed tucked under Bucky’s chin. He nodded again.

“You,” Maisy said, sliding the paper over and pointing to a heading at the top, “are ranked zero-nine. That’s a zero for Dominance and a nine for Submissiveness.”

“Hey,” Bucky murmured, tucking his cheek against Steve’s head, “we match just right.”

Maisy flashed him a smile, then refocused on the paper.

“You also show strong preferences for being a Little,” she continued, sliding her finger down to another section on the paper, “and for being a Pet. You are a Slave, but you prefer the Little archetype a bit more. You have Brat tendencies, but you don’t act on them often. You strongly dislike being a Sexual Slave.”

Steve nodded quickly, pulling back. Bucky ducked his head and kissed his hair, rubbing his arm. Steve turned his face into him a little.

“Does that feel like it makes sense?” Maisy asked him.

Steve nodded to her, slower this time. Maisy gave him a smile.

“Great,” she said. “You get to take this paper home with you, but this is a copy; the state now has the original on file. I’m also giving you some information on where you can learn more about the rights of Submissives in the modern world, especially when it comes to legally binding contracts.”

Steve glanced up, frowning.

“We don’t have a legal contract, baby,” Bucky said quickly.

“Not everybody does,” Maisy added. “It’s also going out of fashion, it seems; people like to just get married, instead.”   


Steve looked down at his paper, then nodded and mumbled a very soft  _ Thank you. _ He slid the paper towards him and started reading.

“I’ll let you guys go over this,” Maisy said, taking a few more papers from the folder and leaving them on the table. “I do encourage you to check out some of these seminars, you definitely won’t be the only person there in your twenties, Steve.”

Steve glanced up, then down again. Bucky kissed his temple, then smiled and mouthed another thanks to Maisy. She nodded to him, then let herself out.

“What’s the difference between a casual collaring and a legal collaring?” Steve asked the second the door was shut.

“Legal collaring kinda gives me power of attorney and guardian type stuff,” Bucky said. “Like, if you were ever arrested, the police would have to call me right away, or if you were in the hospital, doctors would have to talk to me about your treatment. Kinda blends contracts and marriage, in a way.”

“So, what’s the difference between a legal collaring and a contract?” Steve added, looking up with a frown.

“A contract’s harder to get out of,” Bucky said carefully. “Sort of like a lease. If you try to break it early, there are consequences.”

Steve frowned, looking down again. “I dunno if I wanna be leased,” he mumbled.

“I don’t like those kinds of contracts,” Bucky said quickly. “I’d much rather get married and declare to the state that I’ve collared you.”

Steve looked back up again, his eyes wide. Bucky realized what he’d said, then just smiled.

"If you wanted to, I mean," he said a little nervously. 

“What’s the difference between marriage and legally collaring?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky drew in a breath. “Uh, for one, churches don’t usually see them as the same thing. By a long shot. Two, uh, property laws don’t see collaring and marriage as equal. Adoption is so much easier when you’re married. Insurance doesn’t put the same importance on it; a submissive can’t usually add their dominant to their health insurance policy with just a legal collar, but a dom can add a sub. Stuff like that.”

“Like,” Steve started, his voice soft, “starting a family stuff?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

“And what about –” Steve started, then paused to bite his lip. He glanced down. “What about bonding?”

Bucky pulled Steve in close. “That’s forever, sweetheart,” he said softly. “That’s bigger than everything else out there. Marriage, collars, contracts, those are all ultimately pieces of paper. Bonding – Bonding’s in the eyes of God.”

Steve leaned into him, looking down at the papers.

“Least, that’s what my ma used t’a say,” Bucky mumbled.

“My ma said that, too,” Steve agreed quietly.

Bucky bit his lip. Suddenly the question of  _ forever _ felt like it was sitting on the table with the rest of the papers Maisy had left them, like the test had concluded  _ Steven G. Rogers is a conclusive match for James B. Barnes, _ and Bucky had put his foot in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how to undo it, or if he even wanted to. 

He wanted forever. Right then, he could say without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted forever with Steve. It felt easier than any other decision he’d made in his life. But Bucky couldn’t say the same for Steve, and a nasty thought in the back of his head pointed out that he’d said without a shadow of a doubt back when he was sixteen that he didn’t want a forever at all.

“I guess you just casually collared me,” Steve said quietly.

“I’d like to legally collar you,” Bucky answered him, trying not to sound too quick. “It doesn’t take much. You go down to a notary’s office, you fill out a form, then send it to the state and there it is.”

Steve nodded. Bucky looked at him sideways, then tucked his face into Steve’s neck.

“You can think about it,” he said softly. “No rush, honey.”

Steve nodded again. Bucky kissed Steve’s shoulder.

“What does the state say about owning multiple Submissives?” Steve asked abruptly.

Bucky rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “Well,” he started, “owning’s a pretty strong word. State doesn’t recognize ownership of submissive without a really lengthy, drawn-out process with a contract and everything. Far as I know, everybody involved has to have their own lawyer, and the lawyers can’t work with each other. I mean, it’s legal slavery, they gotta be real tough on it to make sure it’s consensual.”

“But what about having more than one?” Steve insisted. “What are the laws on that?”

“I guess it’s the same as any other process,” Bucky answered carefully. “You sit down with someone, they ask you questions, you fill out a form. New York requires drug screenings before they’ll approve a contract, to make sure that everyone involved a d isn’t under any coercion.”

“But can you collar more than one person?” Steve repeated.

Bucky tucked his face into Steve’s neck again. “Yeah, I think so,” he answered quietly. “But it’s up to the people involved.”

Steve let out his breath hard.

“I know I’d never want to collar two Submissives,” Bucky said gently. “I’m very happy with who I have right now.”

Steve nodded. 

“And people can always sue each other for infidelity,” Bucky added. “It’s a shitty thing to do to cheat on a person, it’s treated like a shitty thing.”

“Right,” Steve said quietly.

“I think we should go home,” Bucky murmured. “I think you need to get someplace you feel safe so you can tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“I wanna –” Steve started, and then stopped himself.

“What?” Bucky prompted, looking at Steve from his shoulder. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Steve drew in his breath, then let it out. He gathered up the papers and stacked them together, then picked them up and folded them in half.

“I want things,” he said quietly. “But I’m scared.”

“Do you want me to legally collar you?” Bucky asked, lifting his chin. “Because there’s no penalty for breaking that off, you can undo it at any time if you feel the need to, sweetheart –”   
  


“I wanna be married,” Steve blurted. “And I wanna be bonded to you. I want it so bad.”

Bucky reached out and cupped Steve’s chin, turning his face towards him. Steve looked down at first, then glanced up briefly, and down again, his cheeks pink.

“I want that, too,” Bucky said gently. “I want you to be sure you want those things, because marriage is scary when you’re not sure and it’s fucking heartbreaking if you go through with it and change your mind, and bonding – Bonding’s  _ forever, _ honey. And I don’t want you to be scared that something might happen to change my mind when I bite you.”

“When?” Steve repeated quickly.

Bucky touched their foreheads together. “I wanna be hopeful,” he admitted. “I should say  _ if. _ You don’t gotta agree to nothin’ you’re uncomfortable with, sweet boy, and I never want you to be worried something might change between us. Yeah, I want forever with you, however that comes. I just want you to be positive that you know that’s what you want, and that you know it’s what I want.”

Steve nodded. Bucky pressed their lips together, gentle, then leaned their foreheads together again.

“You ready to go home, babydoll?” he offered.

Steve nodded again. “It’s – It’ll be loud outside –”

Bucky pulled the earplugs from his pocket, smiling. “That’s what daddies are for, baby boy.”

Steve broke into a smile. He grabbed Bucky’s face and pulled him into another kiss, sharper, hungrier. Bucky let him have for a moment, then pulled back, cupping his jaw.

“Let’s go home,” he said gently.

“Home,” Steve agreed.

*

They had a couple days warning before Steve's next heat. Bucky got six days off work again and Steve took the battery out of his phone, looking smug as he did.

Like last time, his heat was weak, Steve was more tired than horny. Bucky got to spoon and snuggle him the whole time, but happily let Steve keep his dick warm whenever he wanted it; Steve wanted it almost constantly. Knowing the serum prevented Steve from getting pregnant, Bucky didn't bother with condoms, and going bare with Steve smelling so damn good had his knot aching for fill even more than the rut hormones. 

The week of rest was still nice. Bucky went back to work on the seventh day, and this time, there was no pressure from SHIELD for Steve to get back in the field, so he got to properly sleep it off. 

The winter holidays were coming up and Becca suggested to Bucky they go someplace for Hanukkah; skiing, she thought. 

"I've never been skiing," Bucky said to Steve. "What about you?"

"Nope," Steve mumbled, not lifting his head from Bucky's chest. 

"It's about time you met the boys, too," Bucky continued. "Properly, I mean."

"I like snow," Steve said. "To look at, not to be in."

"I feel that," Bucky answered. "You wouldn't have to actually go skiing if you didn't want to."

Steve smiled lightly and squeezed him a little. "Thanks, Daddy."

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss to his hair. "I have, like, 4 weeks of vacation time saved up. What'd'you say we spend a lil' extra time on holiday after Hanukkah?"

"That sounds nice," Steve hummed. Then he lifted his head, looking up. "Could we visit Dublin?"

"That would be fun," Bucky agreed. "Is that where you were born?"

Steve nodded. "In a church. Could we do something for Christmas, too? I know it's not important to you –"

"Hey, I'm asking you to celebrate Hanukkah," Bucky said quickly. "I can do something for your holiday, too."

Steve smiled, then leaned up for a kiss. Bucky cupped his cheek, holding him in as their lips pressed together. Steve hummed again and let his cheek settle on Bucky's shoulder.

"What would you and your ma do?" Bucky asked. 

"Not much," Steve mumbled. "Mass on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. We'd have a nice dinner, Ma used to save up for months for it. Couldn't afford a tree, but she tried to get me a gift, I tried to get her one. Usually just drew something."

"Well, I'll give you presents for Hanukkah and you can give me something for Christmas," Bucky said. "And we'll do Mass for you, too, if you'll go to Temple with me."

"'Course," Steve mumbled, yawning part-way through. 

"And there's so much food," Bucky added. "We can definitely do a lil' feast like you and your ma used to do for Christmas."

"And charity," Steve said softly. "Our parish did a free dinner Christmas Eve. We always did that, even if we couldn't afford our own special dinner."

Bucky smiled, tucking his nose into Steve's hair. "That's real sweet, baby," he murmured. "We'll do that, promise."

Steve hummed again, yawned one more time, then settled again, squeezing Bucky softly. Bucky kissed his hair again and nuzzled him. 

"Sleep tight, baby boy," he said softly. "Daddy loves you."

"Love you, Daddy," Steve mumbled back.

*

"We can pile into my van," Becca insisted. 

"You want two six-foot guys to squeeze into your backseat?" Bucky asked her in exasperation.

"You don't have to be in the back!" Becca retorted. "One of you could sit up front ––"

"It's a five-hour drive," Bucky cut her off, "you want me to make my poor baby sit away from me?" 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Buck," he said chidingly.

"Shh!" Bucky said, wrapping both arms around him and covering his mouth. "Don't question it."

"What else are you gonna do?" Becca asked. "Drive all the way to Vermont on Steve's bike? In the snow?"

"Well," Bucky started reluctantly. 

Steve raised a hand, eyebrows, too. Bucky uncovered his mouth.

"We could take  _ my  _ car," Steve suggested. 

"You have a car?" Bucky and Becca replied together in disbelief. 

"Yeah," Steve said with a chuckle, "it's in long-term parking at Stark Tower."

"So we take two cars," Becca said.

"No, my car seats eight," Steve added, "it's an SUV, and it's even meant to drive in blizzards."

"Oh," Becca said. 

"I didn't realize you could drive a car," Bucky said numbly.

"Sweetheart, I can drive a tank," Steve pointed out. "I'll drive and Becca can sit up front to navigate."

"What about me?" Bucky asked indignantly. 

"You can squeeze into the back," Steve said cheekily.

"That works," Becca said with a grin. "And, hey, Steve, would you mind doing the Captain America Righteous Anger thing in case my ex shows up?"

"Ricky's trying to come?" Bucky immediately demanded.

Steve cracked his knuckles. "I can do that. Do you care if he gets a few broken bones?"

"Yes," Becca said quickly. "But you can threaten to break a maximum of two bones."

"That's specific," Steve noted. 

"I kinda had to do a month in Riker's 'cause I broke a couple of his bones," Bucky admitted. 

"I feel like he's less likely to try to get you arrested," Becca added.

Steve looked between them, then wrapped around Bucky's waist and squeezed tightly. "I don't do prison well," he hissed. 

Bucky squeezed him back and kissed his hair. "Don't threaten anybody, then."

"Gotcha," Steve muttered. 

"Anyway," Becca continued, "you pick us up Saturday morning, we drive to the lodge, and voila, eight days of Hanukkah with the cousins."

"Wait, cousins?" Steve questioned. 

"You have every right to hide behind your daddy," Bucky told him quickly, "nobody's gonna be upset if you're shy."

"Believe me, you can hide with Benny," Becca added. "It's fine."

Steve looked put at ease and leaned on Bucky's shoulder with a smile. Bucky squeezed his waist and kissed his forehead. 

"I'll pack snacks, too," Becca continued. "And how much gas do you think the trip will take?"

"Don't worry about it," Steve told her, "I have too much money to know what to do with, it's no problem."

"If you insist," Becca agreed easily. "So, I think we're all set? Bucky, you got Ma's menorah and stuff?"

"Yup," Bucky said. "All good."

"Good," Becca concluded. "I gotta get going, I'll see you guys on Saturday."

"Alright," Bucky answered, getting up to walk her out. "Tell the kids we said hi."

"Sure," Becca said. "Bye, Steve!"

"Bye!" Steve called as Bucky opened the front door for Becca.

"I'll let myself out," Becca added to Bucky. "Bye."

"See you," Bucky said, waving his sister out.

He shut the door behind her and walked back to the couch. Steve sprawled out over the couch and Bucky swung a leg over him, straddling his lap.

"You have an SUV," Bucky started. "And you're covering gas for the whole trip. You know how sweet that is?" 

Steve flushed. "How many kids are gonna be there?"

Bucky grinned. "Planning on buying all'a 'em gifts?"

"I mean, I can afford to," Steve mumbled shyly, "why not?"

Bucky pressed a kiss to his lips. "We got four cousins coming," he said softly, "three of them have kids, but one of them is a new baby. So, one baby, there's two kids under five, three are in elementary school, and the oldest is twelve."

"What do you get kids for Hanukkah?" Steve asked. 

"I'll give you a list," Bucky promised. "As long as  _ you  _ give  _ me  _ a list of what you want."

"I don't need anything," Steve said quickly. 

"Did I ask what you needed?" Bucky countered gently. 

Steve blushed again. "No," he mumbled. 

"No," Bucky repeated. "So, you'd better give me a list of what you  _ want,  _ little boy, or you'll earn yourself a spanking."

"Yes, sir," Steve mumbled, blushing brighter.

"Good boy," Bucky told him, pressing their lips together again.

*

"Are you sure you want to drive?" Bucky asked for the eighth time. 

"Yes," Steve laughed, "I like driving, seriously!"

"I wouldn't mind cuddling with you in the backseat," Bucky offered. "That's a nice sized backseat."

"And Jay will have plenty of legroom," Steve insisted. "Can Becca drive a stick, Buck?"

"Probably not," Bucky grumbled. 

"So I drive," Steve said. 

Bucky pouted. Steve shook his head as he pulled up to the curb in front of Becca's house and parked.

"You stay here," Bucky said, popping his belt. "And put your flashers on, you're waiting, not parking."

"Yes, Daddy," Steve answered with a smile. 

Bucky leaned over and pecked his cheek before getting out. Steve set the hand brake and put on his flashes, then leaned back in his seat.

A minute later, Jay came out of the front door and jogged down the steps. Steve unlocked the doors and Jay opened the middle door.

"Hi," Jay said, hopping in. "Uncle Bucky says your car is a stick shift."

"Yep," Steve answered. "I don't like automatic transmission."

"How does it work?" Jay asked, climbing towards the front seat.

Steve shrugged and started explaining the gears to him. Jay listened intently, asking questions every so often. About ten minutes in, Steve had moved on to why he liked manual better than automatic, and Becca left the house, walking out to the car.

"Hi," she said, opening the passenger door. "Jay, you could be helping Uncle Bucky get our stuff into the car."

"Ma, can Steve teach me to drive?" Jay asked instead of going.

"Uh," Becca said. "I guess, if he doesn't mind?"

"I'd love to," Steve said, "but you know manual cars are more expensive, right?"

"Yeah, but I wanna know how to drive a stick," Jay said, grinning.

Steve shrugged. "If your ma says it's fine."

"When you're fifteen," Becca told Jay. "Go help your uncle."

Jay got back out of the car. Becca pulled herself up into the passenger seat and unfolded a set of papers.

"I printed the directions," she started.

"I have a GPS," Steve said quickly. 

Becca flipped her papers against her chest and blinked at the screen mounted in Steve's dash. "Oh," she said.

"But we can use your directions," Steve added, "it's fine."

"No, no, this is way easier," Becca said, tossing the papers onto the dashboard and leaning over to start programming the GPS. "But I did print out, like, restaurants to stop at, so I'm not totally redundant."

"Great," Steve answered. "You can also be in charge of music, too."

"I have an audiobook," Becca said, shooting him a smile. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Steve replied. "Just not anything that might trip me into regressing, is that fine?"

"Nah," Becca promised, "it's  _ Around the World in Eighty Days, _ Jay's got to read it for school but he's dyslexic, reading gives him a headache."

"That's fine," Steve agreed, "I never read that."

"You'll love it," Becca promised. "You're staying in the car?"

"Yeah, Bucky's worried someone might recognize me," Steve said. "Plus it keeps the car warm."

"Sounds good," Becca said. Then she sighed and leaned back, letting out a long breath. "Single parenting is exhausting," she mumbled. 

Steve snorted. "I'm kinda happy I can't have kids."

Becca shrugs. "I liked being pregnant," she says, "but it's not for everyone. I'm gonna go get Benny's car seat," she added, opening the passenger door again. 

"I'll be waiting," Steve said. 

Becca shut the door behind her and ran back inside. She passed Bucky on the way out, dragging a suitcase and carrying a backpack. Steve pressed a button to open the rear hatch and Bucky made his way onto the curb to load the bags.

"You have a cassette player, right?" Bucky called. 

Steve shrugged and looked over the center panel. "What is a cassette?" he called. 

"Jesus Christ," Bucky laughed. "Hang on."

Bucky came around to the passenger side and opened the door. He leaned in, then pointed to a rectangular slot below the GPS.

"That," he said, "it's for cassette tapes. That one," he added, pointing to a thinner slot above the first one, "is for CDs."

"I have no idea," Steve admitted. "Nobody told me what cassettes are."

Bucky laughed. "It's okay, Benny doesn't know what they are, either."

"That doesn't reassure me," Steve pointed out. 

Bucky laughed again and pushed up to smack a kiss to Steve's cheek. "Give us a minute, doll, we'll be ready soonish."

"Soonish," Steve teased.

"Shuddup, brat," Bucky scolded, getting down again.

Steve stuck his tongue out. Bucky rolled his eyes and headed back to the house. 

He and Becca streamed in and out. Becca put in Benny's car seat behind Steve, then put Benny in it, then gave him a decorative cardboard box with  _ Around the World in Eighty Days  _ across the front. Steve read the story description off the back while the Barneses loaded up the back of the car.

Last, Jay got in the backseat with a large cooler. Bucky put another cooler on the floor between the driver and passenger seats, this one smaller, and Becca dropped a reusable grocery bag on top of it. Steve looked inside and found boxes of crackers and cookies, and a bag of dried Craisins. Curious, Steve opened the bag and took one out, popping it into his mouth. It tasted like a raisin, but tarter. Steve sealed the bag again, curiosity sated.

"I think we're ready," Bucky said from outside the car. "Becca, do you got your pills?"

"Which ones?" Becca answered blankly.

"The…" Bucky started, waving his hand. "For your bladder."

Becca stared at him for a second, then gasped and ran back in the house. Bucky turned and raised his eyebrows at Steve.

"Ma has chronic U-D-Is," Benny announced. 

"UTIs," Bucky corrected.

"It makes her pee hurt," Benny explained. 

"I used to have that problem," Steve said.

"Really?" Jay questioned, sitting forward in the backseat.

"Yep," Steve answered. "And yannow what? It was the thing I was most happy the super serum fixed."

"Wow," Bucky said.

Becca came back out of the house. Bucky turned back as she locked the front doors, then waited for her to approach the car and held out a hand to help her in. Becca shut her door and Bucky got into the seat behind her, then pulled his door shut. Steve turned the engine back on and looked in the rearview mirror. 

"Seat belts!" he called. 

Jay scrambled back and put on his belt. Bucky snapped his in, then checked Benny's car seat and buckles. Steve looked at Becca, who was opening the cassette tape box, until she glanced up and guiltily put her seat belt on.

"Okay," Steve said, effortlessly putting the car in gear, "off we go."

"Are we getting McDonald's?" Benny asked. 

"No," Becca announced. 

"Aw," Benny whined.

"We're gonna stop for dinner later," Becca promised. "Now, everyone get ready for Jules Verne!"

*

The nice thing about the lodge they stayed at was that there were cabins for the guests. They had five different families, so they rented five cabins and a different group hosted each night of Hanukkah. Steve and Bucky were with Becca and her kids, and though Steve had been wary of accidentally exposing Becca's kids to their relationship, Bucky reminded him that Jay was already learning about dominance and submission in Health class at school and everything about them was perfectly natural. And when Steve did call Bucky Daddy in front of the boys the first time, by accident, neither of them even seemed to notice. 

Most of the family members spent the days skiing, but Bucky stayed back with Steve, and they ended up hanging out with Bucky's cousin Elise and her baby and the other kids too young to ski. When it snowed too hard for the slopes to be open, everyone gathered in one of the cabins to play games and tell stories. The cousins were all on Bucky and Becca's mother's side, and Bucky said his maternal grandfather had been the nicest man he'd ever met. It was his paternal grandfather that abused him, and none of the cousins knew him.

On Thursday, everyone left the lodge early and returned to New York for Shabbat. Steve and Bucky stayed at Becca's house Friday night, and on Saturday, they all met again at the family's favored synagogue. There wasn't any special service for Hanukkah according to Bucky, only a moment where the Rabbi addressed the miracle of Hanukkah during one of the prayers.

"There's entirely different liturgy for a Christmas Mass," Steve explained after, when they were at dinner with Becca and her boys. 

"Why is it called Mass?" Benny asked.

"I don't actually know," Steve admitted. "That's a good question."

"Ma, can we go to Mass with Steve?" Benny added.

"We're actually going to Ireland for Christmas," Bucky explained. "Sorry, buddy."

"I wanna go to Ireland!" Benny gasped.

"Not this time," Becca said.

"Why are you going to Ireland?" Jay asked.

"Because that's where Steve is from," Bucky said. "We're actually gonna go to Mass at the church where he was born."

"You were born in a church?" Benny questioned. 

"Yeah," Steve admitted.

"Why?" Benny added.

"Because hospitals back then weren't as welcoming as they are now," Steve explained. "My mother wasn't married when she had me and people didn't like it when Omegas had babies out of wedlock."

"Why?" Benny continued. 

"Because they were stupid," Jay said.

"Jay," Becca scolded quickly.

"It's basically the same thing," Jay argued. 

"Kinda," Steve muttered, fighting a smile.

"It is not," Becca insisted. "It was because they were  _ prejudiced,  _ not stupid."

"Fine," Jay grumbled. 

"Anyway," Bucky chuckled.

"Wouldn't a church be worse than a hospital?" Jay asked Steve. "Back when you were born, I mean."

"You'd think so," Steve agreed, "but I guess that church didn't care, they let my ma have a room and got her a midwife to help. There was an orphanage and a nunnery at that church, so I guess it wasn't that uncommon."

"Why was it bad that she wasn't married?" Benny asked. "My mom's not married, is that bad?"

"No, it's not bad," Steve said quickly, "but some people think it is because they're prejudiced, some people think Omegas have to be with Alphas."

"All the time?" Benny questioned.

"Pretty much," Steve said. 

"Did you have an Alpha before Uncle Bucky?" Benny asked. 

"Benny!" Becca hissed. "Don't be rude!"

"Sorry," Benny added.

Steve glanced at Becca. "I don't mind," he started.

Becca sighed, then shrugged. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders and squeezed him gently. 

"Did you?" Benny asked again. 

"I did," Steve said, "but he wasn't nice to me. And for a while, I was with another Omega, but that was all back in the forties."

"Ma's going out with an Omega," Jay piped up. 

"Jay!" Becca groaned.

"You are!" Bucky cackled. "I knew it! Do I know her?"

"No!" Becca said, waving a firm finger at him. "And you aren't meeting her yet!"

"C'mon!" Bucky teased.

"No!" Becca insisted. 

Benny tugged on Steve's shirt and waved him closer. Steve leaned down and Benny cupped his hand over Steve's ear.

"Dating is complicated," Benny hissed.

"It is," Steve hissed back.

*

"Are you gonna be fussy if I buy first-class tickets?" Steve asked. 

Bucky glanced at him briefly, then refocused on shaving his neck. "Honestly," he mumbled, "nah."

"Good," Steve said, "'cause I already bought 'em."

Bucky dropped his razor and let out a laugh. "Of course you did."

*

On Christmas Eve, Steve walked up the steps of Sainted Mother Brigid's Chapel of Swords hand-in-hand with Bucky. He hadn't been there since he was born, and he'd never seen it before. It was a truly gorgeous church; standing tall against the skyline, stone arches and parapets and statues of angels looking down at them. The church was full of people, enough that he and Bucky blended with the crowd. The organ was already playing the sweet tune of  _ O Holy Night.  _

Steve stopped at the beginning of the center aisle at a basin of holy water, and, feeling nervous for some reason, dipped his finger in and crossed himself. Bucky glanced at Steve, holding a hand near the basin and frowning in confusion. 

"You don't have to," Steve said quickly. "Since you're not Catholic."

Bucky shrugged and dropped his hand. Steve took his elbow and guided him to an empty pew nearby, pulling him to the far end. They sat and Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve.

"What does that do?" Bucky asked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. 

"It's holy water," Steve explained. "You cross yourself with it to bless yourself and renew your baptism."

"Oh," Bucky said. "We don't really do baptism."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "Oh, and when they call for communion, you have to stay back."

"For not being Catholic?" Bucky asked with a chuckle. 

"Yeah," Steve said sheepishly.

"This feels weird," Bucky said with a soft laugh. "I've never been anywhere but Temple."

"Sorry," Steve said hastily, "we can go if ––"

"No, this is important to you!" Bucky insisted, squeezing Steve's shoulders. "What kinda Daddy would I be if I ignored the stuff important to my baby?"

Steve flushed, almost hushing him. He did look around, but he doubted anyone had heard Bucky. 

"Hey," Bucky said, pulling Steve's head closer to him, "I figured we'd have to blend Catholic and Jewish stuff when we get married, anyway."

Steve snapped his gaze to Bucky's, mouth dropping open. Bucky chuckled at him.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!” Steve hissed.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. “Do you not wanna get married?”

“I –” Steve stammered, “yes, but it’s not like you’ve –”

Bucky chuckled again, cutting Steve off, and reached into his jacket pocket. Steve’s mouth dropped open again and he clapped his hands to his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” Bucky challenged him, holding out a little velvet box. “Not like I’ve what, sweet pea?”

“You –” Steve gasped. “You –!”

Bucky laughed and withdrew his arm to open the box. He showed Steve a plain silver band.

“What’re you gonna say?” Bucky asked him, smiling.

“Buck!” Steve hissed again.

“Huh?” Bucky prompted. “You gonna marry me or what, honey?”

Steve nodded. Bucky pulled the ring from the box and Steve held out his hand. Bucky slipped the ring onto his finger, then picked up his hand and kissed the ring.

“So,” Bucky continued, “we’re gonna blend Catholic and Jewish stuff for the wedding, right?”

Steve nodded again quickly, holding his left hand close to his heart. He drew in a fast breath and Bucky chuckled again softly, then wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him. 

“Love you, baby boy,” he murmured. “Told you.”

“Can we get married at Saint Michael’s in Brooklyn?” Steve asked. “They took me in after I ran away from Mister Ronan.”

“‘Course we can, honey,” Bucky promised.

Steve turned into him and pressed into his neck. Bucky kissed his hair. Somebody leaned over the bench just in front of them, grinning.

“Congratulations,” they said.

“Thanks,” Bucky told them as Steve snuggled closer.

*

They got married in August. Steve stubbornly wore a dress, but it was blue, not white. They let Benny toss the flower petals and Jay was the ring bearer. They had a Rabbi and a priest and Bucky wore a kippah for the first time since his mother died. Becca bawled her eyes out.

They took a plane again, and even though Steve didn’t like  _ being _ out in the cold, he liked the atmosphere. They went to a lodge in Switzerland and rented a cabin, like they’d done for Hanukkah. There was a big fireplace and a gorgeous shag rug spread out in front of it.

Bucky laid Steve out in front of the fire, on some towels so they didn’t make a mess, tied him up so his arms were above him and his legs were in the air, and he just fucked Steve over and over. 

“Again,” Steve begged. “Again, please, Daddy, please?”

Bucky kissed him hard. “Whatever my baby wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this is the end. thank you so much for reading this far, i hope it meant something to you, bc it definitely meant something to me to write. pls consider checking out my other works and if you'd like to, you can follow me on[twitter](https://twitter.com/moonythejedi394) or [tumblr](http://moonythejedi394.tumblr.com/), see y'all in the next one_

**Author's Note:**

> _you can check out me out on other places on the internet if you so wish;[my twitter](https://twitter.com/moonythejedi), [my tumblr](http://moonythejedi394.tumblr.com/). no minors, please!_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for " honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch " By moonythejedi394](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762213) by [raynaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynaki/pseuds/raynaki)




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